


Hold On Tight and Don't Look Back

by romanticizingchemicals



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blowjobs, Bottom!Frank, F/M, First work - Freeform, Frerard, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Other, References to Depression, Sexual Violence, Smut, Top!Gerard, frank iero - Freeform, gerard way - Freeform, gosh I suck at tagging, my chemical romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 12:31:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 48,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5708218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticizingchemicals/pseuds/romanticizingchemicals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>first work • hope you all like it!</p><p>The whole concept of "love at first sight" is ridiculous. Absolutely untrue. Blasphemy,</p><p>Okay, maybe not for Frank and Gerard.</p><p>Gerard Way is an aspired comic artist, with a desire to do big things. Living with his brother, though, really prohibits him from making much of a change. </p><p>Frank Iero is a man of many talents; from guitar to singing to working his several jobs, Frank really is a "Jack-of-all-trades". He's just recovered from a very abusive relationship, but hides its effects very well.</p><p>When the two meet, you have your average love story. But soon enough, that relationship evolves into something more. </p><p>Hopeless crushes and glimpses of each other turn into something both of them could have never imagined.</p><p>And you'll have to read about that. Thanks everyone! Hugs!<br/>xoromanticizingchemicals</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Hope You'd Do The Same, Sugar

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

The sky was gloomy, much like Mikey. He wasn't himself today, pushing me around and snapping at me constantly. He was a mystery, that Mikey was, but he just wasn't normal anyways. Well, he wasn't a normal human being, but he wasn't normal Mikey, either. Thus explained my trip to the bakery across the street from our shared apartment.

As I browsed for an enticing pastry that may or may not improve Mikey's mood, I watched the cars in the street buzz and stir. They were a flurry of colors and styles, and on any other day, I may have been inspired by this. But today, I wasn't. I just wanted to go home and fix whatever Mikey was dealing with, because, hey, that's who I was. I finally decided on a chocolate croissant, because who in their right mind could say no to that?

Okay, Mikey maybe, but that was not the point.

I picked my way through the crowd of workers and obnoxious mothers with their whining children, everyone deciding on 12:42 as a great time for bakery goods. The line was about a million miles long, comprised of at least fifteen people, all impatiently swaying on the spot. I sighed and stepped into line behind a lady holding a baby, the child bawling and fists pumping. The poor mother couldn't have slept in the past few days, judging by her distinct slouch and the dark circles around her eyes.

The line moved forward, and I found myself unknowingly analyzing the customers waiting in line. At the front was a group of three businessmen, all clad in fancy suits, in their hands jet black brief cases. Behind them, a woman who looked no older than twenty stood with her arms crossed, her blonde hair a wild mess. And the list went on, and the line moved along. When finally I was separated from the cashier by only one person, I looked down at the chocolate croissant in my hand, wrapped in a piece of parchment paper.

It then occurred to me that I had only drunk a single cup of coffee, so why not get more? The mother in front of me thanked the man behind the counter and heaved the child out the door, who was now munching on a sprinkled doughnut gleefully. I stepped forward, placed my purchase on the counter, and looked up at the coffee menu above the coffee machines.

"Hey there, neighbor," a voice chirped, coming from the short, tattooed cashier. He wore a bright smile, though looking slightly tired. I recognized him as the man who lived across the hall from Mikey and I, not actually knowing his name. I ran a hand through my bright red hair, my chest tightening and my face warming up.

I tried to match that dazzling smile, failing miserably. "H-hey there. Didn't know you worked here," I answered, my mind racing. Before you ask, NO. NO. I did NOT like this man. I barely knew him! His olive green apron bore a small name tag, which read: frnk. It was one of those sticker ones, with the "Hello! My name is..." messages across the top. He didn't capitalize it, and he didn't even spell it right. Well, maybe that's how you spelled it, but I'm pretty sure his name isn't "frnk".

"Oh, yep. I do. I mean, I work a few jobs, but this is my noon job. I leave in a little while, so yep," he replied, removing his visor and ruffling his dark hair. His eyes were bright, hypnotizing even. "Is this all?" he added, beckoning to the chocolate croissant. I shook my head, and then said, "I'm also gonna have a coffee. Medium coffee, please."

"Frnk" nodded, his fingers dancing across the keys of his computer screen. "That'll be $7.53, but for someone cute as you, it's still $7.53, because I'm not allowed to reduce prices," he mused. He turned around, leaving me baffled beyond belief. He made my coffee, and, quite frankly, my day.

Had I just heard him call me... cute?

He finished my coffee quickly, observing my face, which was probably as red as my hair. "Well, have a great day. I'll be seeing you later then!"

I kind of stood there for a minute, unmoving, and then I snapped back to my senses. My coffee was ready, the pastry was wrapped, and Mikey was waiting. Gosh, what is wrong with me? A guy calls me cute and I flip out like a freaking fangirl. I picked up my steaming coffee, the familiar feeling of a coffee cup bringing warmth to my hands. I grabbed the paper bag that contained the croissant, smiling at this "frnk". "That you will. Thanks again!" I finally decided. And then he winked. He winked. Oh my gosh, he WINKED.

Again, I was at a loss for words, but at least I was able to rush out of that bakery and race across the busy street, the cold winter winds slicing my cheeks like tiny daggers. But I was still pretty warm, from the coffee and my warm face, which was the product of the cashier's flirtatious dialogue. I found myself recounting every single event with warmness.

I walked into the apartment lobby, ignoring the lady at the front desk and her pesky greeting of, "Good afternoon, Mr. Way!". I then raced up the staircase to the third floor, and, in my rush, I ran straight into another resident of the complex. My coffee nearly spilled everywhere, but it didn't. Thank God. I muttered endless apologies, stooping to pick up the dropped pastry bag, and then straightened myself to face a very annoyed woman.

No other than the Alicia Simmons, Mikey's girlfriend.

At least I think they're still dating. She's really nice, but right now, she looked pissed. "Out of the way, Gerard. I'm in a hurry," Alicia warned, sidestepping me and bolting down the stairs I had just come up. I shook off the occurrences and continued to my apartment, shoving my hands in my pockets and fumbling with the key.

Only then did I realize that I hadn't payed for the pastry and coffee, and I silently cursed myself for the missed action. I inserted the key into the lock, yanked open the door, and briskly walked in. When I say my apartment was a mess, I don't mean a few magazines here and there or a piece of forgotten laundry in the corner. No, I mean destroyed, disgusting, completely innihilated apartment. I shouldn't even give it that much, because it's just unbelievable.

In our dumpster of a living room, Mikey was sprawled on the worn couch, binge watching Doctor Who, with a variety of Oreos and junk food laid before him. I sighed loudly and set down my coffee, throwing the bag at Mikey.

"Eat up, you filthy animal," I said irritably, disapproving Mikey's state. He didn't even look at me, or the bag, but just shoved Dorito after Dorito into his powder-caked mouth.

I grunted and checked my pockets for some change, which, to my delight, contained an old ten dollar bill. "I'll be back," I told him, though he probably wouldn't care. Jesus, what was wrong with my brother? I decided to go back downstairs, ignoring yet another sweet comment from the front desk, and ran back to the bakery.

The line was diminished, only two people in the bakery. They were both sitting at a small table by the window, but I didn't care. Frank (which I decided to call him, because that's what "frnk" looked like anyways) was packing up, his visor forgotten and his bag on the counter. I jogged up to the counter, and he looked up.

His face lit up a bit, and I felt this kind of warmth spread through me. "Back so soon?" he asked sarcastically, leaning on the counter. I rolled my eyes and handed him the ten dollars, offering my excuses for coming back. Frank simply nodded and took the bill, giving me back the change. I don't know how he remembers my actual purchase price, but he did. Guess I was special!

"Well, I'm headed home for a while. Mind if I walk back with you?" Frank asked, throwing his bag over one shoulder and running his hand through his gorgeous–I mean, messy–hair. I replied with an overly appreciative "yeah", and Frank called back into the "Employees Only" room. "MY SHIFT'S OVER, BOB, I'M GOING HOME! TELL YOUR MOM HEY FOR ME!" he yelled, and then we left the bakery.

We didn't say anything for a while, until we got to the doors of the apartment complex. "Never caught your name, Mr. Mysterious," Frank said casually, looking up at me. And God, was he short. Like, 5'4 or something? But cute. Pretty cute.

"It's Gerard. Gerard Way."


	2. The Light Behind His Eyes

Frank's P.O.V.

***

Don't get me wrong, I loved my job, but I swear, it got really boring. I got a shit ton of businessmen who were NOT in the mood to wait. I got even more moms with their screaming, spoiled kids, or rowdy teenagers who always seem high on something. Living in the city, of course, you got used to those crazy people, but it was a sense of getting _too_ used to them. 

 

But really, it was terrible. Who was I kidding, I hated this job. I hated it a lot. I didn't belong in this bakery, with its little pink walls and goodies and sprinkles. It looked like a unicorn threw up in here, and that's not a compliment. I hated this so much. My legs were sore, and I was tired about getting comments like "Are you sure you're old enough to work here?" and "Jesus, you're tiny!" Okay, yeah, got it. Excuse my tiny-ness.

 

I looked at my watch, which read 12:26, and I sighed, because it's rush hour. True to my prediction, a steady stream of customers spewed through the doors, among them regular customers, people on break, kids, moms, and even dads. Everyone and their mothers decided to show up. Great for the bakery, sucky for me.

 

I rang up order after order, filled up coffee after coffee, listened to that blasted bell above the door jingle every time someone walked through the doors. I spotted a bright red head of hair bobbing amongst the crowd, picking through a shelf of pastries. I knew that guy...

 

He lived across the hallway from me at the apartment complex. I knew more about him than he did of me, but I wouldn't let him know that. I knew that he had a brother, and that he sang and drew and wrote comics. He didn't work outside of his home, but that didn't mean I didn't see him on a daily basis. I did enjoy our little run into's, how he always seemed so flushed and hurried. So cute.

 

And before you ask, I'll just tell you I'm gay. For all intents and purposes, I am. And somewhere inside of me, I _really_ hope that my neighbor is too, because he's hot. Like, really hot. The way he tucks his hair behind his ears even when he knows that it'll fall right back into his face is adorable. The way he bites his tongue when he draws is so disarming. And should I mention the small, toothy smile? That's self-explanatory.

 

I snapped back to reality and continued to serve the customers, awaiting the arrival of the mysterious neighbor himself. When he finally did come, I wasn't so sure of what to say, but I tried to sound flirty. It was time to start conversation, which I really sucked at...

 

***

 

And now we were walking, together, towards the apartment complex. And I have to say, he had this fantastic warmth about him. His cheeks were quite rosy, but he  wasn't shivering like I was. I had on a Misfits hoodie, skinny black jeans, black combat boots, and my skeleton gloves, but I was still freezing. May just be my icy soul.

 

I asked my neighbor his name, to which he replied, "It's Gerard. Gerard Way." Even this small talk was a turn-on, but I had to keep myself in check, because if I didn't...

 

"That's a cool name. I think I've heard of you..." I mused, "You draw, don't you? I've seen your work! I'm into comics and such, and I've seen that name." So what, I had to lie. I couldn't reveal my stalkerish habits. Leave me be.

 

His ears went pink, and he scratched his neck in embarrassment. "Oh, cool. Umm, I draw. Not too good, though. I–it's a pastime. What about you?" he muttered, his words a slur, "I know you work at the bakery, but do you have any other jobs? Any hobbies?" He was trying to change the subject, so I just went with it. 

 

"Oh, yeah, I have a few jobs. I work at that God forsaken bakery, at an animal shelter, and, on occasion, at that comic shop down the road," I said, jerking my hand in a random direction, which I hoped was towards the comic place I worked at during the weekends. Gerard's eyebrows raised slightly, and I realize that I forgot to tell him about my hobbies. "Sorry, and I play guitar. It's nothing too big or serious, I'm not that good. Ah, actually, I'm pretty good." I said, finding confidence in my musical skills. 

 

Gerard smiled that adorable smile, and I tried to return it. 

 

We ascended the stairs, making small talk about comics and superheroes. "Spider-Man sucks," I agreed, nodding vigorously, "He's so frickin' whiny and I mean what good is he if he whines all the time?"

 

We talked until we reached our doors, and parting was, if I may, such sweet sorrow. "Well, I'll see ya later. Maybe we could meet up somewhere? Show me some artwork?" I suggested hopefully, to which Gerard nodded without hesitation. His eyes caught the light, and they were quite marvellous. It was like getting lost in a forest, his eyes were so beautifully hazel.

 

This sounds like a fanfiction. Is this a fanfiction? I'm flipping out over this cute guy, describing him like some poem. He is a poem. I AM SO SMOOTH.

 

"I'll see you later, then, wherever and whenever that is," Gerard offered, and I laughed. He studies me for a second, and then smiled back. "Byeeeeee!" I called as he disappeared into his room, and I into my own. I heaved a deep sigh and removed my shoes and gloves, pulling my hood back and stretching out my back. I had just met my longtime crush, and, try as hard as I may, I didn't think he picked up on my attraction to him.

 

I picked up the remote on the kitchen counter, which was littered with pizza boxes, dishes I had never gotten around to cleaning, and random articles of dirty clothes. And I didn't care.

 

Walking over to my room, I searched for my pillow underneath the mile of uncleanliness. It wasn't just any pillow, though. It was this thing called a "Chillow", which was basically heaven disguised as a block of memory foam. I carried it back into the living room, throwing myself sideways onto my black, old sofa. I turned on the television, settling down onto the comfort that was my pillow. 

 

I was was still thinking about Gerard, and how he actually wanted to hang out with me. I was terrible, actually. I couldn't even deal with myself at times. It was crazy, really. No one ever wanted to hang out with me. I was a messy pig, who dressed up in whatever I could find. I left messes everywhere I went, and I was just so different. I was gay, I was depressed at times, and no one liked me. No one except for Gerard. And maybe Bob, just maybe. 

 

And Gerard actually wanted to chill out and talk comics, display his lovely artwork for me to see, and just hang out. It felt great. And I really wanted to see that hair, those eyes, again. Soon.

 

 


	3. Mikey's Little Temper Tantrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True to the title of this chapter, Mikey throws a temper tantrum. Why? Because Mikey. Okay, so things will get better!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy! This already has a kudos. YAYS! Okay, hugs guys!

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

That happened.

 

So it looks like I get to hang out with Frank, the super cute neighbor guy with the awesome hair, piercings, and tattoos. I love this guy!

 

I close my door and sigh dramatically, ignoring the fact that there's an angry Mikey standing in the kitchen with his arms crossed. "What took so long?" he demanded, his brows furrowed in irritation. I grunt and roll my eyes. "I hate you. Shut up. I can come and go as I please," I reply, my anger at him building up. He doesn't move, he doesn't flinch. He just stands there. "Mikes, what the fuhk is wrong with you?"

 

Mikey holds up a tiny piece of paper, which is crumpled and covered in a kind of sloppy, choppy handwriting. I can't even read it, it's so jacked up. "Who's Frank?" he inquires, and my heart jumps right out of my chest. My throat tightens and my cheeks warm up, and I find myself lunging for the paper.

 

It must have been something Frank slipped into the pastry bag, because Mikey is pissed. "I almost ate it when I was eating that stupid croissant you bought me. Now tell me," he repeats slowly, "who's Frank?" I shake my head and try to snag the paper from his hand, but he holds it out of my reach. Curse him.

 

"He's a friend. Just give me the paper, Mikes, what is wrong with you?" I almost beg, punching Mikey in his stomach. He shoves me a little harder than normal, and I stumble and fall into my bottom. Speechless, I stare up at him in fear and amazement. He just– _pushed me_. 

 

He reeled back a bit, and then broke into tears. Things took a left turn down Crazy Lane real fast...

 

"I-I'm sorry, Gee, it's just... Alicia and I are going through a lot and it's so much and I'm a slob and a pig and I just... I'm useless and ugly and a fucktard, and, and..." Mikey rants, sobbing. And I just sit there, ignoring my sore bottom, staring at my brother, who's just falling apart right in front of me. 

 

He backs up into a wall and slowly slides down, his head in his hands, his body shaking. His breath comes in unsteady, short gasps, and he shakes hard. Two words come to mind: panic attack. I finally find the sense to stand up and walk over to him, to put a hand on his shaking shoulder, and just sit next to him.

 

"Hey," I say softly, trying my best to console him. But I'm not very good at that. And it shows, because Mikey doesn't look at me or stop or slow down. It's getting worse, and I don't know what to do. "Mikes, please, listen!" I say louder, hoping volume and fierceness may help. It doesn't.

 

"MIKEY," I scream, my own voice scaring me. Mikey slows down just a little bit, and he looks up at me. His glasses are askew, his face blotted and red, his thin figure still still convulsing harshly. His eyes are brimmed with tears, hatred of himself lined into every curve of his face. 

 

I want to hug him. I want to tell him it's going to be okay... That's the big brother in me, but he's old enough now. He's twenty four, and he doesn't need his older brother talking to him like he's six. Instead, I sigh and try to talk over his shaky sobs. "Look, I can assure you that there's no reason to be so hard on yourself. You didn't do _anything_. You're not useless. No one hates you. Fuhk, Mikes, everyone loves you. You're awesome. And don't let anyone talk to you like that. You're so amazing. You have everything anyone could ever want, characteristics wise. I mean, you're basically a charismatic, warm, rad guy.

 

"And if anyone tells you otherwise, well then, ignore them. Fuhk them, they suck. They were never worth your time. But really, please just listen," I say steadily, or at least try to say steadily, "You. Aren't. Worthless. You're worth more than everything, you hear me? You're amazing, and it's no reason to hurt yourself. Self harm doesn't have to be physically identifiable. I love you, Mikes. I'll even order pizza. With extra breadsticks." At that, I draw a breath and wait for him to calm down.

 

I'd been talking long enough for him to calm down more, reeling away from the panic attack. I nod in rhythm with his slowing breaths, and he shudders a few more times before wiping his face on his shirt. "God, I hate having you see me like this. It's fuhking embarrassing," he mumbles, shaking his head violently. I laugh and shove him a bit, taking out my phone. I promised a pizza, after all. 

 

"The norm or what?" I ask before calling my contact labeled "THE PIZZA PLACE FOR MIKEY WHEN HE FREAKS OUT", which is what it was. Every time Mikey had one of his episodes, I'd call and order the same pizza, always with extra breadsticks. Mikey nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. I just noticed that he was wearing the same shirt that he'd slept in last night. No wonder he smelled so foul.

 

After calling the pizza place and placing our order, I noticed my coffee cup from the bakery sitting on the counter, lonely and forgotten, just like the rest of the crap surrounding it.

 

I pick it up and drink its room temperature contents, the coffee itself crappy and cheap. I miss Starbucks. "Was the croissant at least decent?" I ask Mikey, my face screwing up into a pinched look of distaste. He shrugs, still slumped against the wall. "Neh, not any better than your coffee." 

 

Of course he had drinken my coffee... Classic Mikes. I took notice of the crumpled piece of paper that Mikey had dropped while suffering from the overage of emotions, and I stooped to pick it up. "Who is it, seriously?" Mikey piped up, his voice hoarse and scratchy. I shoved the paper into my pocket and scratch my neck, a natural reaction to when people ask me questions I don't like to directly answer. 

 

"Our neighbor. Frank. He works at the bakery... We just met today, and he's actually pretty great," I admitted in a small voice. Mikey chuckled lightly. He knows I like guys... Oh, does he know. I swear, every single time I even talk to a guy I can literally _feel_ Mikey's eyebrow raising, and it's terrible. But he's great with relationships, even if his own is a bit rocky. 

 

"So when are you two gonna hook up?" he asked slyly. There's the old Mikey, suggesting dates and relationships.

 

"Fuhk you, we're just friends," I retorted sourly, squinting at him through the red locks of hair that fell into me face. He only laughed, and, finding the strength to lift himself from his place against the wall, walked over to the couch. "Whatever you say. Just, if you guys do hang out, please don't have sex on this couch. Or my bed. It'd probably be best if you did it over there," he teased, falling back into the couch. I nearly spit out the bitter coffee, and I felt my face turn a mad red.

 

"Fuhk off, Mikey," I muttered, joining him on the couch. He giggled, but showed no sign of stopping the teasing.

 

"Oh, trust me, it's gonna happen," Mikey continued, "I know. My Mikey sense is tingling. Frank is totally into you. He stares at you all the time. He's your type, totally your type. You're both into each other, so go hang out with him, you animal." I just kept blushing madly, trying to hide it. "Y-you just want the pizza and breadsticks to yourself!" I said profoundly, finding an excuse to not have to go over to Frank's even though I wanted to. 

 

Mikey shrugged. "Yeah, true, but I might save you some. Now _gooooo_!" he urged, finally standing up and dragging me to the door. I whined and protested, but he literally opened the door, dragged me across the hallway, knocked on Frank's door, and bolted back into our room. I almost screamed, but found contentment in a shrill whine. " _Mikeyyyyyy_!" I cried, heaving myself up and running back to the door.

 

I searched my pockets for the key, but I remember having left it on the kitchen counter. Damn it.

 

Frank opened his door and poked his head out, an amused look playing across his face. 

 

"Well howdy, neighbor Gerard."


	4. The Share Circle of Two People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for a preschool classic: we're gonna go around the room and tell each other about ourselves! Yay!

Frank's P.O.V.

***

I totally wasn't waiting by the door for Gerard to come over. Totally not. I also wasn't glancing impatiently at my phone every thirty seconds, because that's just needy. 

 

Fuhk you, okay, I was. I totally was.

 

And how my heart leapt when I heard that sweet little double knock at my door, because I was lonely and desperate. And concerned. I had heard a lot of commotion coming from the room across the hallway, the Way brothers' room, a lot of shouting and stuff. So I was kind of scared, because I had heard a few of those screamfests before. Most of them being Gerard's brother yelling at him, but they weren't too frequent.

 

And, being that my walls are so thin, I can hear a lot from my surrounding rooms, which also means that I can tell the status of someone's sex life. Gerard, I know, has no sex life. Neither does his brother. The person to my left, however... Let's just say she has a lot of frazzled men leaving her room every morning, and I won't get into that.

 

But who am I to judge? I barely even have a life at all. I waste away in front of the television, in front of my large collection of comics, I play guitar, but really... I'm a loner. 

 

So you can imagine my delight at the sound of Gerard yelling at his brother in the hallway, followed by a knock at my door, more yelling, and I shutting of the door across the hallway. 

 

I opened my door, stuck my head out, and smiled at Gerard. He was hitting his apartment door, but he turned around just as I opened my door. 

 

"Well howdy, neighbor Gerard," I greeted him, straightening myself and shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. "Hey, Frankie... My brother's being a douche... He locked me out and..." he said breathily, at a loss for words. I admired his eyes from afar, once again lost in their beauty. In his beauty.

 

Why can't I just be normal?

 

"Hey, it's all chill. You could come hang out with me, if you want. I mean, just hang out. If you want..." I stumbled across my words, a mess in front of him. Gerard seemed to become a bit happier, which really made me happier and more confident, so I winked and walked back into my apartment, leaving the door open for him.

 

So, not only had I been waiting for Gerard, but I had also cleaned up my apartment. It took a little while, but I had finally managed to pick up at least a little bit.

 

Gerard came in a few seconds, closing the door softly behind him. We stood in silence for a few seconds, but I suggested that I could show him my comic collection. It was a big one, one that I was quite proud of. Hopefully he liked my choice of comics, because...

 

I lead him into my bedroom, where I had box upon box upon box of comics. Comics were piled high against walls, spilling out of extra containers. I was a geek. 

"Sick collection," Gerard commented after a few moments of staring longingly at my bed (what, maybe he was tired?) and admiring my vast collection of comics. "Rad."

I nodded like a proud father, picking up an older copy of "Tales from the Crypt" and flipped through it, admiring the way the oldened pages crinkled at my touch. "They're my babies. I love comics. And you do too? What kinds of comics do you read?" I said after a minute, glancing up at Gerard. He was looking at a box of superhero comics I had kept over in the corner.

We made small talk about comics and old horror flicks, but after a while, his eyes trailed to the other corner of my room, where I kept my guitars and records. Gee's eyes went wide, and his jaw hit the floor. He noticed me staring and went pink. "You weren't kidding when you said that you played guitar. Those are fricking awesome..." he admired, starting to walk over to the corner.

I chuckled and followed him, picking up one of the guitars. I gave it a strum and watched Gerard smile. After a few more chords and riffs, I decided to prod at him.

"So, you sing?" I asked casually, setting the guitar down and throwing myself into my bed. His ears went pink again, but I was getting used to that. "N-no, why... How did you...?" Gerard started, but I chuckled and shook my head. 

"These walls are thin as paper. I hear everything," I told him, shrugging. He sighed and scratched his neck. God, he was cute. "Okay, I sing when I clean. But who doesn't? I sing when I get ready for the day, but why not? I'm no good at it, so it's nothing big..." Gee said, his voice brimming with embarrassment. 

I furrowed my brows and shook my head violently. "Naw, you're great at singing. I love your voice. It kinda reminds me of David Bowie's... But your voice is fantastic. And I don't even know some of the songs you sing..." I pushed, "Do you compose music too?" I thought I caught a glimpse of a smile, but he quickly hid it. 

"Sometimes... I just come up with random songs and sing them based on my mood. I get it from my..." he trailed off, choking on his words. I leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. He sighed and blinked away a few deceptive tears. "From my passed grandmother, Elena." I stood up and hugged Gee, because, hey, he looked like he needed one. And he returned it graciously, squeezing harder and sighing quietly.

I took a whiff of his hair, which probably hadn't been washed in a few days, but it still smelled good. I couldn't quite lay my finger on the scent, but it was comforting. "Thanks," Gerard said, his voice slightly muffled. I smiled into his shoulder, and replied, "No problem. That's what I'm here for..." 

Okay so I swear, I don't know how it all happened so quickly, but it did. One moment, I was comforting Gee, the next moment I was rubbing small circles on his back with my thumb, and the next, we were kissing. Once again, it all happened so fast that I couldn't control it. But it wasn't too serious. It was a short, small peck.

Okay, fine, it was kind of long. We leaned into it, it was pretty deep. I really hoped that my lip ring didn't hurt him, because that would be awkward, but he didn't show any sign of pain, so we kept going. Just standing, swaying, kissing, I was holding his face in my hands and...

Yeah, it was good. I wish it would've lasted longer, but we decided to cut it short on account of a banging at the door. Gerard flinched and his face flushed. "F-fuhk, I'm sorry, Frank, I..." he started, but I held my finger up to his lips and winked, and then walked to answer the door. A few moments later, I was joined by a quiet Gerard, and I opened the door to a taller, spectacled man. His hair was dirty blonde, a bit longer, but it was well pampered.

His face was angular, but he reminded me of Gerard. So, naturally, I assumed it was his brother. "Mind if I have my brother back?" the man asked impatiently, glancing from Gerard to me. I shrugged, looked at Gerard, and smiled. "Hope you had a good time. Next time, maybe we could pull out a few Bowie records and watch some movies... Hopefully, I'll see you soon," I said to Gerard, holding open the door for him. 

Hesitantly, he stepped out of my room, his face slightly pink. "Y-yeah. Thanks, Frankie," Gerard replied, scratching his neck and waiting in the doorway. His brother rolled his eyes and pulled Gerard by the shirt towards their room.

"Byeeeee!" I called, shutting my door. I smiled to myself, recalling that kiss. That natural, passionate kiss. Oh, we won't just be listening to Bowie records and watching movies next time. 

That was the start of something, and both he and I knew that.


	5. Clean Up, Get Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get hot, again! Relationship advice from Gerard...

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

Woah. 

 

I don't have much more to say than that, because hot damn... I silently cursed Mikey for dragging me away from Frankie's apartment. I was really enjoying myself, obviously. And that was gonna get hotter if Mikey hadn't barged in...

 

When we reached the apartment and Mikey had latched up the door locks routinely, I spun on my heel to face him. "The fuhk was that for?" I cried out, "You're the one who told me to go over there, you bastard!" 

 

He grimaced and looked me up and down, a regretting look in his eyes. "And I can drag you back just as easily, so suck on that. Anyways, I needed you back because I wanted to talk to you about earlier," Mikey said slowly, backing up onto the couch. He nearly tripped over an empty pizza box, which I could care less about if he had. I sighed dramatically and followed suit, plopping down next to him with an impatient sneer on my face.

 

"Okay, fine. What's so important that you had to interrupt a perfectly fine moment of social interaction?" I demanded, trying to sound stern. Mikey looked at me like I was crazy... Which I am. "It's Alicia... She's going through a lot right now. I know this sounds stupid, but I need some advice," he started. I stared at him intently, waiting for him to continue. "Judging by the fact that you haven't been in a relationship since you were sixteen, my choice of asking you for relationship advice is very stupid. But I need help. I'm not sure what it is, but she came over a few night ago and started yelling at me about how I never wanted to go out with her, and how I was always cooped up in this disgusting apartment. 

 

"It's not too bad, I don't think... But she was furious with me, making with gestures and flipping out. Something about her job, I guess. I thought I picked up that the boss had fired her or something close to it... And I suppose I should've been more compassionate," Mikey admitted cautiously, "But I wasn't. And she just kept telling me off. I think she must've been drinking or something, because I could smell it on her. Same thing today. She came in earlier, reeking of beer or something like that. So I just want to fix it. I want our relationship back, Gee, but I'm not sure how to do that..." I let Mikey take a few breaths before explaining to him what he was to do. "So, was she laid off or no?" I asked seriously.

 

Mikey's answer was a brisk nod and a nose wiping on his sleeve. 

 

"Okay. So obviously she's coping with a shit ton of stress. People deal with that in different ways, you know that all too well. So, drinking is her way of saying , 'Fuhk this, I can't deal with it anymore'. And that's totally understandable. You need to talk to her when she's not drunk. Reason with her, offer other ways to deal with the stress. Heck, take her out for dinner or something. Have her over and cuddle. Just deal with it like a man," I suggested, finishing with a pounding of my fist on my knee. 

 

Mikey nodded slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Sounds good. I'm not sure how you're so great at this if you don't even have a boyfriend or a girlfriend," he said, heaving a sigh as he got up to his feet. He walked over to the hooks on the wall by the door, on which his car keys hung. "Where do you think you're going?" I asked, standing up and running over to him. 

 

He he looked at me like I was gum on the bottom of his favorite boots. "I'm a grown man, what's it to you? Go back to your boyfriend. I'm gonna go talk to Alicia..." Mikey spat suddenly, and then he opened up the door, walked out of it, and closed it in my face.

 

I stood there like an idiot for a few seconds, but then I snapped back to reality and found myself longing for that piece of paper with Frank's number on it. I glanced around my filthy apartment, hoping to find the paper. I spotted it on the counter, but I was still disgusted by the condition of my home. After grabbing the paper, getting out my phone, adding Frank as a new contact, and texting him a simple "Hey, Frankie, it's Gerard!", I decided to get to work.

 

Putting on a pair of rarely used cleaning gloves, I took out a garbage bag from the pantry and started collecting mounds of trash from around the room. I wanted to vomit as I found a month old peanut butter and jelly sandwich hidden beneath a pile of Mikey's dirty shirts. Mold was growing all over it, and its fumes were putrid.

I heard my phone buzz on the counter, and carefully picked my way back to the kitchen. On the screen, I read Frank's text message: 

 

"Hey Gee. Had a great time! Busy later? Like at 4 maybe? xofrnk"

 

Really? "xofrnk"? Cute signature, but wow. I instantly recalled the kiss of earlier and unconsciencely touch my lips. I swear I could still feel that warmth, that beating of my heart, the humor I found in Frank on his tiptoes... I began typing a response:

 

"No, should be free. Always am... I have no life. Wanna come over here? Mikey's out, so we could chill..."

 

I smiled and sent the text, and then resumed the messy task of cleaning. I began to sing random words, like, "Picking up a hamburger wrapper from a few weeks ago" and "Dirty laundry littering this dirt-caked floor". Catchy tune. After I had finished picking up the random bits and pieces of trash, I tied up the bag and tackled the dirty clothes. Just as I bent down to pick up a pair of Mikey's red skinny jeans, my phone buzzed again. I went to read the text, smiling at it because I was happy to be receiving a text that wasn't from Mikey.

 

"That sounds cool. I'll be over at 4 then, or maybe a few mins earlier, idk. See ya boo! xofrnk"

 

I giggled like a fuhking teenage girl, and then replied: 

 

"K, boo, see yah around that time then." 

 

I checked the time, which was 2:53. I had plenty of time to clean up the apartment. So, turning on my music, I kept cleaning. The laundry collecting commenced, and the cleaning up of random objects followed. Why did we own a Rubix Cube? And when was the last time we watched the Smurfs? I shook my head at these things and continued cleaning. 

 

I sang along with my songs, the Misfits singing "Hybrid Moments". I did that weird thing where you dance and clean, but I didn't dance with a mop or anything like that. I did ballerina leaps and crap like that. 

 

The cleaning ensued, and I moved onto the kitchen. Dirty dishes were stacked up next to the sink, towering and wobbling and smelling. Scrub hard as I may, it was simply impossible to remove some of this crap. I was thankful for a dishwasher, even though we barely ever used it. I stacked the dishes up and continued to sing, louder than I thought I was. 

 

With the water running, I could barely hear my phone buzz. I hoped for it to be Frank, but it was Mikey. I grunted and read his text:

 

"Could you record the episodes of Doctor Who playing tonight at 9? I'm staying at Alicia's place. Your plan worked. Love ya"

 

I scoffed and removed one of the cleaning gloves, and typed:

 

"Fine. I'll try to record them, but if not, you can't get angry at me. Don't come home drunk like you did last time."

 

I turned off my phone, put the glove back on, and kept cleaning. Time passed, and I moved from room to room, wiping down tables and cabinets and counters. I made the beds and cleaned the mirrors. I straightened the shoes and organized the closet. I was simply in a mood to clean. Now I could actually walk around without the fear of possibly tripping over Mikey's backpack and breaking my neck. 

 

As I put the final touched on the living room, I heard a knock at the door. I felt my stomach drop and looked at the time: 3:43. I took off my gloves, tied up the last garbage bag, and through it into the cabinet beneath the sink. I straightened my hair and checked my breath. 

 

What, I was just being safe! 

 

I opened the door and looked down a bit to see Frank, who was staring at his shoes. As I opened the door, he looked up and smiled. "Hey, Gee," he greeted me, shifting his weight to his other foot. I returned that adorable smile and stepped aside for Frank to come in. He nodded in approval, saying, "Did you clean up for me?" I smelled the air, which reeked of chemicals and cleaning supplies. "Yeah, I did. It was a barn in here," I responded slowly, twisting my finger in my hair. 

 

Frank looked at me with what seemed to be admiration, and then he leaned against my kitchen counter. I took a few moments to appreciate his perfect body. He was pretty thin, with beautiful, colorful tattoos covering his arms. He had piercings that I loved so much. The way they caught the light intrigued me, and I wanted to stare at him all day. 

 

"Where's Mikey, then?" Frank broke the silence, scratching his cheek. There wasn't a shadow of a stubble, but he appeared to be moving just because... "Girlfriend trouble," I replied simply, "He went to go talk to her about something. He's staying the night there." Frank seemed to be interested in that last part, perking up a bit at the mention of it. "All night..." he repeated with a wink. 

 

Fuhking wink.

 

"Damn it, just kiss me," I growled, grabbing his shirt and pulling him up to meet my lips. We stayed locked in the position for a while; I had caught him off guard for a moment, but he busied himself by running his hands through my hair. I loved that feeling... The rush I felt was like nothing I had ever felt before. It transferred me to a totally different place. I enjoyed the slight metallic taste that filled my mouth, the warmth of Frank's lips against mine. We broke the kiss, and heavy breathing followed.

 

"You can do better than that," Frank said in a small voice, walking to the couch and sitting down sideways, taking up the whole sofa. I cursed him for being such a tease, but walked over to him. "Oh, can I?" I asked softly, and he bit his lip. "I think so," he replied, raising an eyebrow. 

 

I thought I could, too.


	6. Get In and Make Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another make out session, be warned!

Frank's P.O.V.

***

Fuhk Gerard.

 

Fuhk him and his cuteness, his face, just... I couldn't handle myself around him. I had gotten at least two boners around this guy, and luckily, he didn't notice. But really, I loved him. A lot.

 

So we had a make out session on his couch, and it was hot. You wanna hear about it? Fine, you horny bastards.

 

I was laying on the couch, and he positioned himself above me, arms on either side of my chest. "You love me, don't you? You love me, you fuhker," Gerard hissed in my ear, causing me to shiver. "Fuhk, Gerard," I replied in a whisper, squeezing my eyes shut. 

 

He smirked and leaned into my face, our lips slightly touching. I whimpered with need and snaked my hands around his neck, pulling him closer. Within a few seconds, my hands were entangled in his red locks, our tongues battling for dominance. I'm not sure how often Gerard kisses people, but he's great at it.

 

Not that I've kissed many people, but he's by far the best.

 

I eventually gave up, opening my mouth and letting him explore. Damn, this sounds so weird. I'm not sure why I'm explaining this... 

 

But his tongue grazed my lip ring, and he sucked on my bottom lip for a few seconds. I busied myself by running my hands underneath his shirt, exploring his smooth, perfect back. He didn't have any tattoos or piercings, which I found kind of weird, but his skin was so smooth and soft...

 

We lost track of time, just kissing each other and having a great time. 

 

"I told you," I said softly into his ear, and he chuckled. He pushed back off of me and sat back on his knees. I sat up, and he cupped my face in his soft hands. I sighed and closed my eyes, and he leaned in for a small, soft peck. "I was just wondering..." Gerard said in a small voice, "I know we just met, but shit, I love you and..."

 

"Yeah. Yeah, I would love to," I replied. I already knew his question, and I had been imagining him asking this question forever... "Thank God, because that would've been embarrassing if you had said no," he said, breathless. I laughed and kissed him again, and then we sat back on the couch, my head in his lap. "Wanna watch something?" Gee asked, picking up a small black remote. I shrugged, and he turned on the television. "I've like you for a while," I peeped, looking up at Gerard. He smiled softly and ruffled my hair. "Yeah?" he said softly. "Yeah. Like, a lot," I added, "And I think it's crazy that we met at like 12 and are already dating. What time is it anyways?" Gee looked at his phone, and said, "4:30. Are you hungry at all?" I shook my head, looking back at the television. We sat in silence for a few seconds. "I've always wanted to tell you that I liked your tattoos," Gerard said with a smile, tracing the scorpion tattoo on my neck. I giggled, saying, "Thanks... How come you don't have any? Guy hot as you, thought you'd have a few." He shrugged and shook his head. "Hell no. Tattoos are the scariest thing since Fangoria. Not yours, but just the needles. I'm deathly afraid of needles..." he replied in a small voice. We talked for a while, and we exchanged birthdays and ages and all that crap that normal people talk about. I looked at my watch and sighed, realizing that it was probably time for me to get going. I wanted to work a few hours at the comic shop, because it was really hard for me to work most anywhere on account of my tattoos. "What's wrong?" he asked sweetly, rubbing the area behind my ear. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth slightly. "I have to go to work... It's hard for me to make a living, and I want to go work a few hours at the comic shop," I replied, ignoring the fact that Gerard had moved onto my shoulder blade. I had taken off my hoodie earlier, and I was now just wearing my gray cotton t-shirt. Gerard whined. "Noooooo, you're staying here. You're not gonna worry about your jobs right now. I won't let you leave me," he urged, removing one of his legs from under my head and laying it across my chest. I grunted but agreed not to leave. I did want to stay, but I was worried about not having enough money to survive. I didn't get payed too much. In fact, I didn't get payed that much at all. Gerard's phone buzzed, and he picked it up and read the screen. He rolled his eyes and began typing, "Whozit?" I slurred, trying to look at his phone. "Mikes," he replied irritably, "He said, 'Don't forget to record the shows! I won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. Don't have sex on my bed...' Fuhk him." I winked at him and reached up to touch his face. "I love you," I whispered softly, my eyes fluttering dramatically. He smiled down at me and leaned in to kiss me. "Love you too."


	7. The Attack of Princess Fro Fro and the Unicorns

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

I loved just laying here, talking to Frank, kissing him and adoring him. His face, his body (that I could see, of course), and just... him.

 

Never had I learned to love someone so quickly before; I loved Mikey, but that was a brotherly love. This was way different. It felt more intimate, more special and private. I felt loved in a new way... Not that Mikey didn't love me, but it was just different this way. "So what do you want to do then?" I asked Frank after we had watched three episodes of a random reality television show that had decided to air at the time we were watching the T.V. 

 

Frank shrugged. "I dunno. We could always go on a walk or something," he suggested, looking up at me. His head was still in my lap, and it was taking all of my willpower NOT to get an erection right now. That would cause so much awkwardness... I ran my hand through his hair and nodded, pushing him off of me.

 

"Okay, we'll go for a walk," I agreed, slipping on my leather jacket that was hanging on one of the wall hooks. Frankie followed me, slipping on his own Misfits hoodie and skeleton gloves. They were fingerless, so I could see all of the tattoos on his fingers. I knew that his birthday was on Halloween, and he had explained to me the meaning of all of his tattoos. He was just so fricking adorable.

 

I grabbed the room keys, the car keys, and my phone, and together, we left the room. As we made our way downstairs, we nearly ran into a man no older than myself, who, on his head, had a mane of curly, brown hair. Like an afro. The man had a fuhking afro. "Ah!" Frank screeched, nearly tumbling down the steps. He had gotten a real scare from the suddenness of the encounter, so I laughed at him. 

 

He punched me in the arm and regained his composure. Fro Fro Man stood in front of us, smiling wildly. "Hey guys!" he greeted, waving a small wave," I'm Ray!" Frank and I looked at each other, then back at Ray, silently judging him. He wore a pair of dark green pants, slim fit, and a black cotton shirt, underneath a vest of denim. All topped with a huge mane of curliness. He looked like a stick topped with some curly fries. 

 

"Hey, I'm Gerard," I returned, pointing to myself, "And this guy is Frank," I added, pointing to Frankie. Frank waved. He waved. I waved. Ray waved. We were an ocean of three. "So you guys live here?" Ray asked casually, shoving his hands into his pockets. Frank and I nodded. "You moving in?" Frank asked. Ray nodded. We stood in silence, but Ray eventually broke it again. "Well, I hope I'll see you guys again! Looks like you've got some pretty rad taste in music," Ray pointed out, gesturing to Frank's hoodie. 

 

We just nodded, and, after saying our "goodbye's" and "nice to meet you's", we headed downstairs. As soon as we reached the lobby, Frank whispered, "Fuhking Princess Fro Fro, God save the queen." I laughed heartily, and we linked arms for no reason. The lady behind the desk smiled uniformly at us, calling, "Good afternoon, gentlemen!" And together, we ignored her.

 

She was always so annoying.

 

We walked out of the apartment complex and onto the sidewalk, standing still for a few seconds and deciding what to do. "I kinda just wanna walk around," Frank admitted, slipping his hand into mine. I felt myself go red, but hurriedly wished it away. Blushing was so troublesome. "Okay, we'll walk around then. Besides, there's a lot of stuff we can do..." I responded, appreciating the fact that Frankie was wearing gloves. My hands were already getting sweaty...

 

So we walked down the sidewalk, the cold stinging our bare faces. Frankie had withdrawn a knit beanie from his hoodie's pockets, and I had grabbed a hat with ear flaps before we had left. Our heads and bodies were covered (minus my own hands, but Frank's hands warmed my own), but our faces weren't. But we didn't care. We didn't pay any mind to the faces we got from pedestrians and people walking along around us.

 

"Do you ever..." Frankie started, cutting himself off midsentence. I waited for him to finish, but he didn't. "Do I ever what?" I asked quietly. Well, as quietly as I could, granted that we were walking outside during winter in a busy city. Frank sighed and used his other hand to rub his eye. "Do you ever wish you were normal?" he finished hesitantly. I was dumbstrucked by his words, and I stopped walking suddenly. The current of walkers simply flowed around us, but we didn't move. Frank bit his lip and looked like he immediately regretted his decision to ask.

 

"What do you mean, normal?" I asked him, gripping his hand firmer. Frankie scratched his neck. "Like... Not gay, not depressed, not so stressed...? That's not normal. I just want to live my life my way without society judging me. And I hate being depressed. I hate it so much. So do you. I just want to be normal..." he admitted breathlessly, his eyes brimming with tears. I looked down at him and brought a hand to his chin, lifting it up. 

 

"Hey, don't talk like that," I said harshly, "I mean, everyone gets depressed, it's completely normal. Different people experience different levels of depression, but how can we know what happiness feels like if we don't have to deal with sadness? As for being gay, that's what defines you. Not the actual label, but the interest itself. And people judging you? Fuhk them. They don't matter. You listen to me, Frank, don't you dare think for one second that you're worthless or abnormal or alien. You're not. You're beautiful."

 

Frank smiled, sniffing, and kissed me. I returned it, not leaning into it as much as we had earlier, but just enough to receive the judgemental glances of homiphobic ongoers. "Thanks Gee," he whispered in my ear, and I slipped my hand back into his. 

 

We continued walking, not really talking too often. We just walked. Frank saw a guitar store and wanted to take me in, so I complied to his request, and we entered the store. He marveled at the guitar wonderland that lay before him. I smiled as he went around to each one and tested out a few chords on each. We got to one in particular that he loved, and I realized that we kept revisiting that one. It was an ivory color, creamy and smooth. The strings were white and in great condition, and the guitar itself fit Frank's personality perfectly. There were some black knobs at the base, but I knew nothing of guitar anatomy. All I knew is that Frank really liked the guitar. 

 

"I think you like that one," I said as we made a sixth visit to the guitar. Frank laughed and picked it up again. "What, it's gorgeous," he admired. "Like you," I added with a wink. "Damn you're smooth," Frank commented. I laughed and watched Frank play a few chords on the guitar. "I do this thing where I name guitars... I don't even buy them, I just name them. This one's Pansy," he dubbed, strumming the ivory guitar. 

 

He pointed to a jet black guitar on a rack near the back door, and said, "That one's Lola. And that one's Hyro." He pointed to many guitars and named them off, like they were children. I just went along with it. Before we left, Frank bought a guitar pick ("You can never have too many," he had pointed out). Then, with a tiny little bag containing a new red pick, we left the store, thanking the teenager behind the counter. We continued to enter stores as we pleased, visiting a few record shops and bookstores. I ordered a coffee at Barnes and Noble, sipping it as Frank explained why coffee wasn't very good for you.

 

Did I listen? Yes. Did I care? No.

 

"Whatever. Coffee's the nectar of the gods," I retorted, cherishing every sip of the warm liquid. Frank rolled his eyes, and then demanded a sip of my coffee. I handed him the cup and told him not to drink it all, but that didn't stop him from chugging down the remains as quickly as possible. "You fuhker!" I screamed, snatching the cup from his hands. He laughed evilly, grabbing my hand again. 

 

We walked into the animal shelter where Frank worked. I scrunched my nose at the foul smell, but Frank inhaled deeply. "Ah, dogs. Dogs and cats," he breathed. A man behind a fold out table was filling out some paperwork for a couple sitting in folding chairs on the opposite side of him, nearest to us. I thought I recognized the back of that head...

 

"Mikey?" I asked loudly, and the man of the couple jumped. He spun around. And, of course, it was my brother. 

 

"What are you doing here, stalker?" he responded, not moving from his seat. I rolled my eyes and approached the table. "Very funny, but I thought we didn't talk about that in public, Mikes," I teased, and he stuck his tongue out at me. Alicia was seated next to Mikey, looking happy and joyous. 

 

"What are you guys adopting?" Frank asked. He had joined me behind Mikey, and was now leaning against me. "A unicorn. You know how much I want one. I've asked you for one every single Christmas, and do I ever get one? No!" he exclaimed in an outrage. I scoffed and shoved him. "They're not real, wake up and smell the flowers," I retorted, and Alicia giggled. 

 

"No, we're adopting a cat!" she exclaimed, holding up a picture of a small, calico kitten. I had already begun sneezing the moment we came into the shelter; I was allergic to cats, and I wasn't about to let Mikey get one and come into the apartment with it. "That's great," I forced myself to say, "Personally, I'm allergic to cats... Mikey knows that!" Mikey gritted his teeth, and at that moment, the man filling out paperwork for them pushed the paperwork aside and stood up, grabbing one of those fold up boxes.

 

"Follow me, Mr. Way and Ms. Simmons," he said, walking to the wall of cat cages. Mikey and Alicia both stood up and followed the man, who looked behind me and saw Frank. "Oh, hey Franks!" he said cheerfully. I saw Frank redden, like you do when you're angry.

 

"Bert," he replied shortly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

 

I looked at him, questioning the way he had said Bert's name. Frank only shook his head and stayed by my side, our arms touching. Bert lead Mikey and Alicia to the cat cages and unlocked one of them. From it, he held a small calico kitten. The one in the picture.

 

Everyone verbally "awe'd" at the small cat, even me. I stayed at a distance, but it was still adorable. "What's it's name gonna be?" Bert asked the couple, and Alicia took the kitten into her arms. "I think we'll name him Piggy. What do you say, Mikes?" she cooed, cuddling "Piggy's" face.

 

Mikey grimaced silently, but nodded. He didn't care too much for the name, but Alicia wouldn't let him name it something like "Rose Tyler" or "Donna Wise". So "Piggy" would have to do.

 

Frank frowned slightly, but said nothing. I could feel the tension emitting from him, but decided not to question it. Bert took the cat back from Alicia, unfolded the box, and stuck the cat in there. There were little windows in the side, and you could see Piggy's little face through the opening. Frank and I told Mikes and Alicia "goodbye", and then we decided to go out for dinner. At least Chinese takeout.

 

"What was that all about?" I asked Frankie once we had gotten back to the apartment complex. We had decided to eat our dinner at his place, because I was the one carrying all of our food, and the key was hard for us to reach. "What was what about?" he mumbled through a mouthful of noodles. He had been in a mood since we had left the animal shelter.

 

I put down my chopsticks and sat up, crossing my legs, looking Frank right in the eyes. "Bert," I said, and Frank shifted uncomfortably," Why were you so terse with him? I know you guys work together, but really." He swallowed the noodles and put down his fork (he had given up on the chopsticks when he had almost stabbed his own eye trying to hold them).

 

Rubbing his eyes, he drew a shaky breath. "He was my boyfriend," Frank replied. I could tell that he didn't want to talk about him, but I didn't care.

 

"And? You guys aren't dating now... Right?" I asked, just for reassurance.

 

Frank shook his head violently, and I sighed with relief. That would've been really weird if they were still dating, because I would've been in big trouble.

 

"It's just..." Frank began, "He was terrible. Abusive. He... He verbally beat me up, physically on some occasions. He would come home drunk, and then he would bash me and yell at me. At first, he was really sweet and gentle. We were even in a band together. But that changed..."

 

I waited for him to keep talking, but he didn't. "What else did he do to you?" I asked disgustedly, terrified that Frank had to deal with that. Frank shook his head, and I could tell he was lying. Funny I had known him for about seven hours and I could tell when he lied and when he was sad or happy...

 

"Don't lie. Did he hurt you in any other way?" I repeated harshly, and Frank started shaking.

 

"I–I deserved it," he said softly, rubbing his forehead.

 

"What? You deserved what?" "I mean, sometimes he would... He would..." he tried to say, but he found it hard to continue. "Frank," I said seriously, "You tell me right now what he did to you. I won't hurt you. I won't be angry with you. I won't get angry. I'll love you still, because you're fuhking perfect and no one hurts mah little Frank."

 

Frank composed himself and nodded. "He touched me. In places where I didn't want to be touched. When he was drunk, of course. When he wasn't, it was gentle; loving. He loved me once. But sometimes, when he had been out drinking, he would be really angry. I'm not sure why, but he would take it out on me. We've had sex a few times, but it was gentle love making. On his worst nights, he would fuhk me senseless. No lube, barely any foreplay or preparation... But I deserved it. I was lazy, I didn't love him enough... I wasn't good enough..."

 

I listened intently, watching Frank's eyes fill with tears at the thoughts of his past. I expected him to start to cry, but he didn't. He kept talking.

 

"I'm not sure why you love me. I'm worthless... I don't have value, I don't matter, I'm not worth your time," he said dryly, shaking his head and running his hands down his legs.

 

I stopped him before he could say anything else. "Shut up," I said suddenly, "Shut the fuhk up, Frank Anthony Iero. Don't you dare–don't you _dare_ –talk about yourself like that. I thought I made it clear earlier that you weren't worthless. That you were special. Don't you dare think that you're worthless or not worth someone's time. You can't let other people get to your head. What did he say? When he was drunk. What happened?"

 

Frank looked like he was about to cry, tears daring to spill from the corners of his eyes.

 

"I... He said things. Hurtful things. He called me names and called me out on all of my flaws. He pushed me and hit me and... I'm not sure what else to say other than it hurt. It hurt so much. To be told that you're worthless and a slob and that you would never be anything. That you were a pastime. That you're a piece of shit that no one feels like picking up... And actually believing it?" he said, his voice breaking, "That's the worst part. Believing what they say. I believed it. I believe it." 

 

I watched Frank fall apart, I saw the tears coming. In the end, I was holding Frank in an embrace, him crying into my shoulder. Not even crying; he was sobbing. Violently. I just ran my hand up and down his back, which was still covered by his hoodie. I felt empty, really. I couldn't have ever imagined that I'd be consoling my neighbor over his abusive ex, but hey, life is full of surprises.

 

"I know I can't just say to not be sad. To not be depressed. To not listen. I can tell you that, but you have to choose to listen," I whispered into Frank's ear, "You're worth more than the world. The world is your litter box, and feel free to shit on anyone who does you wrong. Especially Bert. Don't think about him. Forget about him. Forget everything that he ever told you. All of the bad stuff, all of the good stuff. I want to make you forget it, Frankie..." 

 

Frank nodded into my shoulder, bringing his hands up to my hair. I sighed quietly and pulled back from the embrace. 

 

And I leaned in and kissed him. 

 

Life is so full of fuhking surprises.


	8. Chinese Food and Fro Fro Stalker Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things in this chapter that may not be suitable for the eyes of curious youngsters.

Frank's P.O.V.

***

It feels amazing to tell someone else your problems. Someone you trust. Someone like Gerard. 

 

We had nearly forgotten about the Chinese food, because we were kissing again. And it felt much more intense than the last few times. I felt like I needed more of Gerard, but I didn't want to go too fast. I didn't want to make him feel like I was rushing him. 

 

But it was really hard not to want it so much. Hard not to tell him that I wanted more. That I wanted _him_. 

 

"You're so hot," he whispered breathlessly against my lips, the warm air from his mouth sending shivers down my spine. I smiled against his mouth and but his lip softly. "Not as hot as you though," I replied, inching my arms up the back of his shirt. I found comfort in tracing the lines of his back, so I did.

 

And he liked it.

 

So we stayed like that, kissing, battling for dominance. I had simply accepted the fact that Gerard was the dominant one, so I was normally feeling more pleasure than him. His tongue was in my mouth, and I would simply entice him by running my own tongue along his. 

 

And he liked that, too.

 

He would constantly whimper with need or want, tangling his fingers in my hair. I loved feeling him dissolve in my arms, but I loved dissolving in his even more.

 

We broke apart only because Gerard's phone had bused, a picture of Piggy from Mikey in his text message inbox. Piggy was originally named Venom, by me, but I don't think Mikey's girlfriend would've appreciated a small, precious kitten named something so different. 

 

I decided that kissing for so long had left me starving, so we began attacking our dinner again. Chinese food was the best; especially the noodles. Even if you couldn't enhance the flavors by using enchanted chopsticks. Gerard found so much humor in my inability to operate two pieces of wood, but it was hard! 

 

"Frank," Gerard said, swallowing a piece of orange chicken. I looked sideways at him, following his gaze to a picture on the wall. It was of me and my mom, when I was a teenager. "Yeah?" I asked, leaning into him. Gerard put his head on top of mine and twisted his neck to kiss the top of my head. "I can't believe I'm here right now. I've got to be the luckiest person ever," he replied, slipping his hand into mine. 

 

I smiled and nuzzled his neck with my head. "I don't think so," I said, "I think that I'm luckier." Gerard shook his head and retorted, "I don't believe in luck. It's by a blessing I'm here, not luck." 

 

We were interrupted YET AGAIN by a knock on the door; two swift cracks. I heaved a long sigh and made the long journey to my door, yanking it open in irritation. 

 

It was Ray.

 

"Hey man! What's up?" he asked me, and I just stood there. I didn't answer for a few seconds, but then decided on, "Oh, nothing, just eating dinner... How do you know where I live?" Ray laughed and held up a piece of paper with type on it. The names of the people living in the apartment complex were listed, along with the numbers of their apartments.

 

Creepy. 

 

"And how did you get this?" Gerard asked, joining me at the door. Ray shrugged and replied, "They give them out when you move in, ya just gotta ask."

 

I nodded slowly, and then said, "So, is there any way we can help you or what?" Ray rocked back on his heels and put his hands in his pockets. "Actually, I was just gonna say that I saw you at the guitar shop earlier!" At the raise of my eyebrows and the widening of Gerard's eyes, Ray shook his head and gestured wildly. 

 

"No, no. No, I wasn't following you guys. God, I suck at first impressions. Umm, no. I was actually over there too, because I needed new guitar strings. My old ones were a mess, so I ran down to that shop place. Yeah, but you guys walked in shortly after me, and I saw that you play the guitar!" he explained, pointing at me. I nodded and hooked my thumb on the pocket of my hoodie. "That I do. You play... Cool. Guess I'll be hearing you every so often. These walls are paper thin, so be careful of what you do behind them," I warned.

 

Ray chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, no, I have a studio downtown. And by studio, I mean I play in my friend's basement. It's quiet and doesn't echo too much," he said simply. Gerard and I nodded, and we all stood quietly for a few moments. "Well, I just wanted to say that if you wanted to play guitar with me some time that I'd be down for that," Ray said, "Do you play any instruments?" That last part was directed towards Gerard.

 

Before Gee could respond, I nodded. "Oh, yeah. He sings and, on occasion, dances. You'll hear him," I replied, rubbing Gerard's exposed forearm. Gee slouched slightly at my touch, relaxing. Ray smiled. "Sweet! We could totally chill sometime! Well, I better go unpack. See ya!" And with that, he was off. 

 

I shut the door and turned to Gerard, who was crossing his arms. 

 

"What?" I asked innocently, walking towards him. Gee looked at me disapprovingly, but let my hands creep up to his shoulders. I could feel him shudder, but he didn't move or say anything. 

 

"You're a turd," he said when he couldn't come up with anything better.

 

"I dunno, Gee. I've never been in your ass before, so I can't say I am," I replied smartly, rubbing the area underneath his jawline. Gerard bit back a gale of laughter. "Oh, you'll get there eventually," he teased lightly, uncrossing his arms and snaking them up my neck. 

 

"Can't wait until the lucky day," I said, "Or should I say, blessed day?"

 


	9. Frankie's Really Just a Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He whines and throws tantrums. What more can be said of him to enforce the fact that he's really just a small fetus chald? A hot one, though...

Gerard's P.O.V.  
***  
"Geraaaaaard," Frank whined, kicking his legs. He was laying on my lap again, and it was still hard not getting a boner around him.

"What, Frankie?" I asked, looking down at him. He was pouting like a child. "I'm tired, but I don't wanna walk to bed," he said, putting his hands on either side of my face. I sighed and slid a hand under his legs, sliding another one under his back. With a grunt and a push, I was holding Frank and carrying him to his bed. 

I tossed him onto the bed like a sack of potatoes, even though he wasn't ridiculously heavy. I wasn't that strong anyways...

"It's too hoooot," Frankie whined, flapping his arms like a dying seagull. He still hadn't taken off the Misfits sweater. I sighed and pulled the sweater over his head, and then he whined at me to take off his shirt and his pants. When I had done that, I just sat back and watched his gorgeous body as he temper tantrumed, demanding a pajama shirt. 

"Why? You don't need one..." I admired, sitting at the foot of the bed, facing him. He grunted and sighed dramatically, sitting up. "Guess I'll have to fulfill my name as Frank Iero and be a sexy little bastard as usual," Frankie reasoned, inching towards me. I had never seen him shirtless, and I just wanted to look at his amazing body. He slipped off of the bed, pushed me into a laying position, and crawled on top of me.

I was usually more dominant, but that was kissing. I had never done... 

What was this?

"Don't pretend like you don't want me, Gee," Frank whispered in my ear, biting the lobe. I flinched slightly, only because no one had ever bitten my ear before. That was sexy, not an attempt at cannibalism. My heart leapt in my chest and I leaned my head back, mouth slightly open. "Fuhk you," I growled in a whisper.

"That'd be very nice if you did, but you're moving a little fast there, Gee," Frankie teased, running his thumb up and down the side of my neck. I scoffed at him and rolled my eyes, but didn't say anything. He was in charge of this sexy talk stuff, not me. "But really, you know you want me, don't you? You want me to kiss you. You want me to touch you. You want me...." Frank said softly, practically talking into my neck. I got the chills from the way he was talking to me, but I really liked whatever he was going for. 

"But you can't have me yet, baby," he finished, booping my nose and sitting up. I cursed him and he laughed at me. 

"Why would you do that?" I whined. I did want him. I didn't want to rush this relationship, but it was really starting to get harder and harder to contain myself. I could feel the growing bulge in my pants, too, but Frank hadn't noticed it... yet. 

He pushed me over a few inches, making room for himself to lay next to me. I made to get up, but he pushed me back down. The bed was not very big; a full size, at most, but I was leaning more towards a twin sized mattress. "Don't get up," Frank said softly, holding me down with an arm. 

I thought it ridiculous to try and fit two men on a twin sized bed, but I didn't move. Frank tugged at my shirt, convincing me that I'd be way too hot in it. Then I would be sweaty and I would smell bad, apparently. So I let him pull it over my head, and he took time to admire my body, too. Me shirtless wasn't the prettiest sight, but Frank marveled at me like I was the most gorgeous guitar he had ever laid eyes on, so I let him look.

He rolled over on his side to face me, and I rolled over to face him too. He ran his finger from my throat to the top of my chest, sending warmth throughout my body. "You're so beautiful," he said softly, moving down farther with each stroke. I blushed and felt the need to say something romantic. 

"I don't think you need these," I replied in a voice just above a whisper, reaching out to pull down his skinny black jeans. His boxers were navy blue with a little hamburger pattern on them, like the Merona ones you get at Target for six dollars a two pack. "Best you take yours off too, then," he said, reaching to pull down my jeans, too. 

Which wasn't a good idea.

The bulge in my pants had gone down considerably, but that didn't mean I hadn't decided to wear skin tight boxers. Sometimes I ran out of the loose ones, and the only ones I had left were the skinny ones that outlined my length in an unattractive way. Frank's breath hitched in his throat, and I could sense him trying not to stare. I was a bit embarrassed, but when I tried to explain why I wasn't in better briefs, he dismissed my apologies and stared shamelessly. 

"Great choice. Although no boxers is a better look," he decided, but didn't pull down my underwear. I giggled and brought my hand up to his face. "The same to you. Though they could be tighter," I teased, rubbing the point where his jawline started, right beneath his ear. He made a "mph" sound and closed his eyes. I loved him so much, and this was why. One of the reasons, at least. 

It was absurd to think that I had met him only earlier today, at noon, and we hadn't even known each other for a full day yet. I knew that I'd have to do a lot more waiting, but when the time came to get more intimate, I would be ecstatic with anticipation. 

"I love you," I mumbled, kissing Frankie's forehead. He repeated my sentence, but only moments before falling asleep. I listened to the steady pattern of his breathing, watching his tattooed chest rise and fall, until I fell asleep, his name traveling through my thoughts.


	10. Plan "Please Gerard the Fucking Angel"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's fast forward! Frank has some surprises up his sleeves for you and Gerard!

*1 1/2 Months Into Relationship*

Frank's P.O.V.

***

Mikey was in one of his moods.

 

I knew this because:

1) Gerard was pissed

2) I could hear everything from that room

3) I had eyes; I saw Mikey on a daily basis, and he was almost never happy. 

 

And poor Gee was struggling to deal with that, on top of balancing his two new jobs and his comic illustrating job. On top of being an artist, Gerard had taken up working at the guitar store, which I had also begun working at. I had quit my job at that stupid bakery to work somewhere where I actually belonged. Gerard wasn't much use for actually playing the guitars there, but I was teaching him a few things. He caught on really quick, but he had begun singing more often.

 

He had also started working at the comic shop with me, which was a relief. We would usually just stand behind the counters and binge read random comic series, Gerard admiring plot lines and illustrations. 

 

But with the new jobs, Gerard was already stressed enough. Hours were pretty flexible, but he needed the money. Rent was becoming harder to pay, and even though Mikey had a job at the Target three blocks from the apartment complex, the money was barely enough to live on. At one point, we had all talked about living with each other, but we decided against that for a few reasons.

 

For one, Mikey and Alicia were getting more intimate, and so were Gerard and I. For us, it had moved from kissing to fisting. And for Mikey and Alicia.... I won't get into that.

 

But Gerard was really stressed, and I wasn't feeling all that great either. So I had stayed home and eaten the soup that Gerard had made me before he left for the guitar shop. I wanted to do something for him... Something that would take away this pain and stress.

 

I decided to start with Mikey. His attitude was affecting Gerard mostly, so I had to talk to him about that. I stood up from my comfortable position on the couch and slipped on a jacket and some shoes. I was only going across the hall, but I was already a wreck. 

 

When I reached the other apartment room, Mikey answered the door a few moments after I knocked. He peeped out from behind the door and saw that it was me. "C'min," he said, opening the door wider. I stepped into the apartment, which was nearly in ruins. The place was trashed again, though not as bad as it was before I had officially met Gerard. I looked around in disgust and glanced up at Mikey, who was shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. 

 

"D'you need something?" Mikey mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. I strolled over to the couch and sat on the arm of it, ignoring the trash that surrounded me. I looked up at Mikey, who was also a wreck. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, and his hair (which he had recently cut) was a mess. He no longer wore glasses either. "Yeah, actually," I said matter-of-factly, "What's with your piss-poor attitude? You know it affects Gerard the most. You know it does. And I'm gonna use that against you. You're being real damn selfish. Go ahead, tell me why you're acting like this. What's going on?"

 

Yeah, I was angry. I was upset that Gerard was always in a fit of depression, stress overcoming him and always winning. He wasn't the only one that suffered from his panic attacks... Mikey bit his lip and avoided eye contact. "Go on. What's so important? I'm not like Gerard, Mikes. I'm not your brother, am I? Nope! So I don't have to be all nice and fragile!" I exclaimed, waving my hands wildly. Mikey stared at his feet.

 

"Oh, or are you too breakable for big boy words?" I pressed, knowing that Mikey would blow up on me and tell me everything if I continued this way, "Here, let me baby it out for you: 'It says here that you're being a little piece of monkey shit'!" Mikey leaned back against the counter, gripping the edges so tightly that his knuckles turned white. I was getting to him. "Oh, you're extra dumb today," I continued, "Here. I can help. OH MIKEY WIKEY, YOU ARE BEING A CRAPFACE TO YOURSELF AND YOUR BROTHER AND YOU NEED TO–"

 

"ENOUGH!" Mikey screamed, launching himself from takeoff position. He was pacing madly in front of me, waving his arms as he talked. "I–I DON'T KNOW, OKAY? I'VE FELT LIKE COMPLETE BULLSHIT LATELY. I DON'T FEEL IMPORTANT. I FEEL WORTHLESS. I'M A FUHKING SLOB, AND I DON'T DESERVE ANYONE'S LOVE. EVERYTHING IS TOO MUCH! THERE'S NO FEELING! IT'S SO ROUTINE!"

 

I let him ride out his anger, not saying anything or moving from my spot on the arm of the couch. 

 

"And you know what?" he hissed, leaning in closer, "I am sick and tired of this bullshit that we call life. There's no way out. It's. A. Trap. A meaningless trap set by someone up there who wants a game. A nice little spectacle!" 

 

"You sound like Katniss, you suicidal maniac," I said sharply, "So, are you done? Have anything else you need to say?" Mikey was breathing heavily, his fists clenching and unclenching. He nodded slightly and let out a deep breath. I knew that he felt better, because for Mikey, telling someone his problems helped. 

 

I studied his face, the graver features, noticing the awful rings around his eyes. "You look like you had some purple guyliner, wore it into the shower, forgot about it, and spread it everywhere. Have you gotten any sleep?" I asked. Mikey bit his lip and shook his head. "Have you been here at night?" I asked, and he shook his head again. "What about at Alicia's? Have you actually been there?" Another head shake.

 

I took a breath and closed my eyes, preparing myself for whatever was coming. "So, where have you _actually_ been, Mikes?" I asked sternly, still keeping my eyes closed. Mikey sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "Bars," he admitted shamefully, his voice hoarse from screaming. I knew it was coming, and I wasn't so upset at him. Who could say no to a good drink every now and again? But no, this was a constant thing, Mikey going out and drinking every night. And if Gerard had known...

 

"That's not how I should deal with all this shit, I know, but I can't stop," Mikey continued, and I brought my hands to my face. I wasn't sure how to deal with this, but I only told Mikey that the only way he could get better was to think of his brother's emotions before a swig of alcohol. If he considered someone else before himself, he would be less likely to do it. Plus, Gerard was the ultimate weapon against Mikey. 

 

Another thing I wanted to do was to plan a special night for him. I wanted him to come back from his shifts at his jobs (he would be working both today and wouldn't be home until six) and enjoy himself. I called Bob at the bakery. He had been a long time friend, and I made sure that he could close the bakery for me tonight. That way, I could carry out my plan according to my thoughts. Bob would leave the key to the shop underneath the potted tulips at the front of the bakery. 

 

Bob also said that the bakery would be closing early that day, so I could set up before six o'clock. I carried out my plans, step by step, setting up everything. I had even gone to such lengths as to buy Gerard a chocolate croissant and a medium coffee hours before he got back.

 

Why did I do this all? Simple: I fuhkin' loved Gerard Way.

 

The hardest part was making sure that Mikey had gone to Alicia's like I told him to. That way, I could clean both my apartment and Gerard's. 

 

When I had finished cleaning and preparing everything, I only had about five minutes until Gerard got home. I quickly slipped on my black cotton t-shirt and my Misfits hoodie, along with my black skinny jeans and black combat boots. I also put on my skeleton gloves and knit beanie. Do you see what I was trying to do there?

 

I checked the clock on my phone and smiled. My timing was perfect, and now all I had to do was run across the street to the bakery. I grabbed my bag and started to leave my room, ready for plan Please Gerard the Fuhking Angel to fall into play. 


	11. Pain and Sorrow Relieved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna warn you now: There is some pretty suggestive stuff in here. Especially in the next chapter. If you don't wanna read that, feel free to skip it. Okay, thanks guys!

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

I was pretty pissed off, yeah.

 

My week had been nearly unbearable; if it weren't for Frank, I wouldn't have made it to the weekend. Work had been insane, with sucky customers and angry bosses.

 

At the comic shop, the boss had yelled at me for not selling enough product. Well excuse me for not having the ability to attract customers like a magnet. And at the guitar shop, I got constant headaches from the annoying customers who insisted that they knew how to play the guitar but didn't, showing me their lack of skills.

 

On top of all of that, Mikey was in another mood of his. He would be in the apartment all night, been when I woke up, he'd seem drunk or hungover. I had no doubt in my mind that he was sneaking out to bars late at night, but I didn't know why. And he didn't want me to know why, either. Any time that I would ask or even start talking about him seeming high, he would cut me off or leave. So I gave up on that.

 

Worst of all, Frank was sick. He had had a high fever and stomach pains for the past few days, the worst being when I would find him on the floor, writhing in pain. In those moments, I didn't know what to do other than to hold his hand tightly and console him. It was hard, going to work and knowing that my boyfriend was at home in agony. I did my best to make him soup and give him medicine, but I didn't feel like it was enough.

 

So I walked home, thinking about all of this crap that had landed itself into my life. Frankie would know what to say to cheer me up, even if my emotions were wild at the moment. I walked into the lobby of the apartment complex, and the lady behind the counter didn't bother me. Maybe it was the irritation or purpose in my walk. I wasn't sure, but she didn't chirp a cheerful greeting at me.

 

And I was thankful for that. 

 

I made my way upstairs, and in the doorframe of the area where the steps stopped and reached my floors, I stopped abruptly. On the floor was a trail of.... rose petals? 

 

Immediately, I thought of Frankie. Maybe he had set this up for me?

 

No, he couldn't have. I had just texted him five minutes ago, and he had told me that he was in his apartment. Maybe Mikey had set this up for Alicia?

 

But the trail of petals led to Frank's apartment, so, hesitantly, I began following the trail. Reaching Frank's door, I tried the knob, which turned and allowed me to enter. I stepped into the room and looked around. "Frank?" I called, but no one answered. I got a bit nervous, not knowing where Frank was. He wasn't hiding, because he had nowhere to hide anyways. I reached for my phone, which was in my pocket, but then saw something in Frank's room.

 

I walked in and looked around. The comic books were piled high against the wall, just like they normally were, but there was a small, neon green sticky note attached to one of the leaning towers. I stepped forward and read it:

 

"Gee-

I hope your appetite is up

Just as always

Especially for coffee

Check by the Lays"

 

He had finished off this "poem" with a heart and an "xofrnk". I smiled inwardly and noticed what was happening. Frank had set something up, and I was supposed to follow the little green sticky notes. So I did.

 

The pantry contained all of the chips that Frank and I ate together; from Lays to Doritos, we enjoyed the delicacies on a daily basis. So I opened the pantry door and, sure enough, a medium cup of coffee identical to the one that I had bought from the bakery on the day I met Frank was sitting next to a bag of Cheddar Lays. I took out the coffee and caught a flash of green underneath the cup. 

 

I removed the sticky note from the bottom of the cup and read the handwriting that I knew belonged to Frank:

 

"Gee-

Chocolate croissants and pastries

Always are the best

Why don't you go get one

At the place my old job rests."

 

Another "xofrnk" and a heart finished off the poem, and I relished the adorable little signature. After reading the note, I knew that he was talking about the bakery, so I took a sip of the coffee (which I could tell had been microwaved a few times) and bolted towards the door. I followed the rose petals back to the stairs and practically flew down. My mood was already improved; Frank's romantic gestures always did have a special place in my heart. 

 

I jogged past the front desk and out the door, running across the street. The bakery was conveniently located directly across the street, so the journey was no trouble. The traffic of people coming home from work was atrocious, but I didn't have too much trouble getting there. I safely got to the other side and approached the glass door, peering in at the store. 

 

True enough, Frank was standing behind the counter, relaxing and scrolling through his phone. I smiled and pulled the door. However, it was a push door, so Frank knew I was there now, struggling with a push door. 

 

He looked up at me, and I noticed that he was wearing exactly what he had worn on the day we had met each other. After finally opening the door, I stepped into the bakery. Frank smiled at me and adjusted his apron. The apron he had worn when he worked here. 

 

"Frank..." I started, touched. He had made sure that the bakery was closed to everyone except for me, and the only item that was still out was a chocolate croissant; the others had been put away long ago. He looked over at the croissant and back at me. I smiled and walked over to the shelves against the display window, picking up the pastry with a piece of parchment paper. 

 

I walked with it to the front, putting in on the counter and looking at Frank. His eyes were so beautiful; his lip ring caught the light just like his eyes did, and I wanted to kiss him. But I didn't. 

 

"Hey there, neighbor," he teased, waving at me. I rolled my eyes and said, "Drop the act, we're not replaying the episodes of that day." He shrugged and took the croissant, taking a bite of it. "I see you got your coffee," Frank said through a mouthful of croissant. 

 

I nodded and took a sip of the warm liquid, making Frank smile that adorable little smile of his. 

 

"Well, I have more planned. So let's go," he said, taking off his apron and visor, readjusting his hoodie and hair. "We're going to the Chinese restaurant," Frank revealed. I wanted to laugh, because I saw that he was trying to recreate the day we had met. But I didn't want him to. I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to hold him, I wanted _him_. I had wanted him forever now, but neither of us wanted to take a big step until we were both ready.

 

I followed Frank out of the bakery, and he locked up the shop and placed the keys under the pot of flowers next to the door. "So to Panda Express?" I asked, and he nodded. I slipped my hand into his, and together, we walked down the sidewalk to the local Panda Express. When we got there, I noticed another green sticky note:

 

"Gee-

Food is good

But I think you're better

I hope you like

Your brand new sweater"

 

Again signed off with an "xofrnk" and a heart. I turned to look at him, smiling and holding the green sticky note. Frank reached into his bag and pulled out a black sweater. It was the exact same Mistfits hoodie that he was wearing, except a size or two larger. I took it and slipped it over my green shirt; it fitted perfectly. I pulled Frank into an embrace, rocking back and forth and side to side. 

 

 

"I love you, you know that, right?" I whispered, and he nodded into my shoulder. After a quick kiss, he lead me into the restaurant and to the counter, where we ordered two boxes of orange chicken and two boxes of noodles. Frank was vegetarian, so the noodles were for him. We left the place with bags of takeout, and headed back to our apartment. When we had gotten to Frank's room, we sat down and ate the dinner.

 

"One more thing," Frank said, "But it's for _later_." He winked and shoved a huge bite of noodles into his mouth. I laughed, but sincerely hoped that the surprise for later was something I had had on my mind since I had met Frank... "This is really good. It's better with you," I said, picking up chicken pieces with my chopsticks and eating them.

 

Frank smiled, mouth full. "Same here. You make everything better," he replied. I smiled, too, and then looked down at my lap.

 

"Thank you. For the past fifteen minutes. I'm sorry I've been shitty, but there's just so much going on, and–" I said, but Frank held a finger to my lips. "It's okay," he said softly, running his finger over the top of my lips. I shivered with delight and closed my eyes. Even the smallest things he did turned me on. I loved that he teased me like this, but when he was all in, I knew. He was so passionate, and...

 

I felt his lips against mine, though I didn't see his face; my eyes were still closed. He wrapped his arms around my and positioned himself in my lap, legs around me as well. I brought my hand up to his hair and began to run my fingers along his scalp. Today, I was going to let him be the dominant one, because I needed a break.

 

He seemed to sense my train of thought, because he slipped his tongue into my mouth. I didn't even try to fight, because it just felt so good to feel all of this pleasure. All of this delight. All of this Frank. His tongue ran along my own, sending shivers down my spine and causing me to throw my head back slightly. For the moment that he wasn't in my mouth, he began buying my bottom lip, bringing his hands up to my hair. 

 

"You're such a good kisser," I whispered as he pulled back slightly, our heads together. He smirked, and said, "I'm even better in bed." I felt my heart skip a beat. 

 

"Well, how could I know if I've never seen you in bed?" I said breathlessly, biting my lip. Frank mocked a sigh. "Man, you spoiled the surprise!" he cried out quietly. I nearly cried out with relief, with joy. I had been waiting for this for far too long. I wanted Frank, and now I knew that I was going to get him.

 

 

 


	12. The Chapter Where Frank and Gee Have Sex, Yeah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that time you've all been waiting for! 
> 
> Frerard sex, yeah!
> 
> Okay, you horny little fuhkers, you enjoy. Hope this fills the void of all of your Frerard sexual needs...
> 
> But yeah you can already tell this chapter has explicit, descriptive sexual content. Frank and Gee have never had sex (to my knowledge) so this is completely fictional (SAD TEARS SAD TEARS). Okay, love you my sweet little Killjoys!

Frank's P.O.V.

***

The plan had been running smoothly. Although it hadn't taken as long as I thought that it would have, I still had a great time seeing Gerard's emotions improve. It sucked seeing him so down and depressed.

 

He seemed pretty submissive tonight; he hadn't even fought me when we were kissing. That would be great, because what I had planned for him later tonight would work best if he complied with my every request. My every demand, should I say.

 

"So... We're getting it on?" Gerard asked after a while, and I nodded. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, and I ran my index finger along the back of his ear. "Yeah. I mean, if you want to. If you don't want to, Gerard, we don't–"

 

"No, no, fuhk, I want it, Frank. I've been waiting so long for this," he said breathlessly. I decided to tease him, which I knew would mean hotter stuff later on... "You don't sound like you want it..." I said quietly, rubbing his ear lobe between my index finger and my thumb, "Beg for it, Gee." Gerard looked like he was going to lose himself right there, because I could already feel his growing erection against my legs. I was still on his lap, facing him, and he knew that I could feel his boner.

 

"Oh God, Frank, please," he pleaded, trying to control himself. Just the thought of sex turned him into a fuhking animal. I loved seeing him like this. "Please what?" I hissed, letting my hands trail down his neck. His mouth was slightly open. "G-God, Frank. You fuhking t-tease," he said, "Please, I want you. I w-want you so bad, dammit." I smiled and slipped off of his lap, pulling him off of the couch.

 

"Then let's go," I said, and Gerard eagerly followed me to my bedroom. I had cleaned everything up except for the comics, since they were part of my romantic plan earlier. "Wait here," I said, leaving Gerard to sit on my bed. He whined quietly, but I walked into the bathroom and grabbed some lube and a condom. I came back to Gerard and asked him if he needed a condom for any reason whatsoever. He shook his head and told me that he didn't have any STD's, so I nodded and returned the condoms back to the bathroom.

 

I thought condoms a nuisance, even though I hadn't used one ever. Except for once, but that was with a girl. And I was payed for that one, so yeah.

 

"Okay, so I call tops," I said as I returned to my room, setting down the bottle of lube next to the bed on the nightstand. Gerard nodded quickly, hardly able to contain his anticipation. I took a deep breath and turned Gerard so that his back was to the headboard of the bed. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked softly, to which Gerard nodded again. I nodded too, and then crawled over him.

 

I pushed him backwards slowly, leaning in to kiss him. Our lips met quickly, but I wanted to take things slow. So, I slowly kissed Gee, still pushing him back until he was laying down all the way. I held his head in my hands, biting his lips softly and pleasuring him slowly. He ran his hands up my back and into my hair, whimpering with every nip I took at his soft plump lips.

 

I pulled back, and he gasped for air. I was already feeling awkward, but my excitement pressed me on. I began planting small, careful kisses on his neck, and he could do nothing but close his eyes and open his mouth slightly. I felt so powerful, with a willing Gee at my command. He was my clay, and I was the sculptor. I moved up and down, still kissing his neck, but then stopped suddenly. I pulled back and stayed in a sitting position on his chest, and he opened his eyes and looked at me desperately. "Why did you..." he started, but I answered by tugging at his shirt.

 

He began to peal it off, but I removed his hands. Instead, I pushed his shirt up an inch or so and began rubbing small circles on his sides. He bit his lip and closed his eyes again, laying back down. I smiled and continued pushing up the shirt, and I began planting wet, sloppy kisses along his stomach. His skin was pale and smooth, untouched by tattoo needles or anything else.

 

"You're so damn beautiful," I hissed into his ear, and he murmured almost inaudibly. I pulled his shirt over his head and looked at his body for a few minutes. I had always loved our hotter make out sessions, where we had ended up with little to no clothes on. Those were the best; but this was better.

 

"Do you want to make me feel good, Gerard?" I asked in a whisper, to which he nodded hurriedly at. I smirked and kissed him again. "Then do it, Gerard."

 

He didn't hesitate in switching places with me, and even though I had wanted the top, he was only going to be up there for a little bit. Besides, he had ways of working magic magnificently.

 

Gee began by kissing me, but instead of doing things slow, he did things fast. Before I knew it, his tongue was filling up my mouth, his hands in my hair. I liked it fast. I liked it slow.

 

I liked it with Gerard.

 

"Jesus," I whispered, trying to ignore my hard-on. Gerard smirked and pulled back. "Do you want me to make you feel good, Frank?" I nodded, and he didn't move. "Beg then, you little slut," he hissed. He was quickly becoming the dominant one, and I decided to let him. "I thought I was supposed to be the dominant one..." I said. He smiled evilly and shook his head. "No, baby, I am now," he explained, "Now beg for me like the little slut you are."

 

I closed my my eyes and wracked my brain for a sexy phrase or something, but I couldn't find anything. "Make me feel good," I begged him, shaking my head slowly, "J-just fuhk m-me–aaaah!" I screeched the last part, because Gee had wasted no time in pulling down my pants. He tossed them aside and folded down the hem of my briefs.

 

"Fine then, if you insist," he said softly, rubbing my pelvic area. I was a moaning mess; he just kept rubbing, moving to the inside of my thighs, though through my boxers. He finally pulled them down, though rather slowly, it seemed, and my length sprang free. "Jesus, Frank, why didn't you let me into your pants sooner?" he asked breathlessly, staring at my boner. I rolled my eyes and closed them, because Gee had begun to run his fingers up and down my length.

 

I began moaning, only softly, and my hips were already bucking. "You're so eager. You're so beautiful when you're desperate," Gee commented, leaning down. I didn't see him, but I felt his breath on my tip. Before I knew it, he had begun running his tongue along my member, causing me to cry out. I brought my hands to my mouth to stop the moans, but it was no use. Gerard moved up and down, and then decided to work at my tip. I moaned loudly, gripping the bedsheets so tightly that my knuckles numbed.

 

Without warning, Gerard took me into his mouth, little by little. I whined and whimpered, but he kept going. Eventually, he had my whole length in his mouth. No sooner than he had taken me into his mouth did he pull out, leaving me hanging. I gasped for air; it seemed as though I had forgotten how to breathe. "I want you to fuhk my mouth, Frankie," he said, and so I pushed into him. He let out a little moan around me, which sent vibrations through my body. I moaned, too, louder than him.

 

Gerard pulled back, gasping for air, and I collapsed onto the mattress. "You were right," Gerard said. I smiled, and Gerard sat up and dangled his legs over the side of my bed. "Now," he continued, "I want you to suck me off." I nodded and scrambled off of the bed, positioning myself on the floor between his legs.

 

I wasted no time in ripping away Gee's jeans and his boxers, admiring the way his length twitched with excitement as it sprang free from containment. I started slow, running my tongue across his slit. He threw his head back, his bright red hair plastered to his forehead. I smiled and continued, beginning to take him into my mouth. It was a difficult task, because he was pretty big, but with his encouraging hand cupping my cheek, I was finally able to take him all the way in.

 

I moaned as he hit the back of my throat. I was really thankful for the fact that my gag reflex wasn't too strong, because instead of gagging, I was able to moan lowly. Gerard began to breathe faster, and I knew that his orgasm was building up, so I pulled back and gasped for breath. Gee continued panting, saying, "You're so fuhking hot, Frank."

 

We sat in the stuffy room, gasping for the same air, until Gerard helped me to my feet. "If I'm naked," he said, pulling my shirt over my head, "then you have to be, too." He admired my tattoos and traces them all the way to my happy trail, where he stopped. "You're gorgeous, Frankie," Gee said, exasperated. I smiled widely and blushed.

 

Before I could say something in return, Gee yanked me onto the bed, pinning my down. I wasn't really laying down, but I wasn't sitting straight up, either. Gerard was kneeling over me, his face a few inches from my own. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead, and then held three fingers in front of me. "Suck, bitch," he commanded. So I did.

 

I took his fingers into my mouth. I hadn't ever done this before.... Bert was always the dominant one, but he never made me suck his fingers. He used lube or his own saliva or, in most cases, nothing. He constantly fuhked me raw on a drunken rampage. But even though I was at Gee's command, this felt more special. More intimate. 

 

Gee withdrew his fingers from my mouth, a line of spit draping from them. I was disgusted with myself, really. And embarrassed. I wasn't sure what he thought, but then he said, "So hot like this, Frankie..." I felt myself blush again, but then Gerard flipped me over onto my stomach. 

 

He then pushed my legs up into a sort of kneeling position so that my ass was stuck up in the air. I wiggled it a little bit, and I heard him laugh. Making Gerard laugh was what I lived for; he had the cutest laugh ever. 

 

He leaned towards me, and I felt him lick my hole. I gasped quietly, closing my eyes. I wasn't ready for that, and Gee smiled at that. He knew. He knew my weaknesses...

Without warning, Gee eased a finger into my asshole, and I yelped unattractively. This noise seemed to amuse Gerard, because he chuckled a little. "F-fuhk," I muttered as Gerard pushed the finger in further. I was tight, and I knew that. "So fuhking tight, Frank... I'll fix that..." Gerard muttered, working at my hole. 

 

I'm just going to be completely honest: When I was showering earlier, I had taken extra measures to make sure that my butt smelled good. I didn't need to be smelling like shit, because I don't think Gee would appreciate his fingers reeking of my waste...

 

Another finger was eased in besides the first one, stretching me out even more. He began moving his fingers like scissors almost, which was a little painful. My knuckles were white as a sheet of paper from holding onto the sheets so tightly. Gee didn't seem to notice, because he slipped the third and final digit in. 

 

This was a real stretch, and I gathered all of my willpower to not cry out as he moved his fingers around inside of me. It was hard to control myself, but I had to last longer than this...

 

When Gee decided that I was stretched out enough, he took his fingers out of me, and I relaxed slightly. "Ready?" he asked gently. I nodded and closed my eyes again, ready for the pain. The pain and pleasure...

 

I felt Gerard shift around, lining himself up with me, and then I felt his tip slip in. I grunted and clenched my teeth. Gerard went in and out, going in further each time. The pain wasn't too bad anymore, but then, Gee shoved himself further into me, with much more force. I cried out loudly, throwing my head back. Gerard didn't show any signs of slowing down, and I didn't tell him to. 

 

He pulled out most of the way, only to thrust in harder and further, causing me to scream and writh and cry out. But soon, the cries turned into mumbles, and the mumbles to moans. Moans of pleasure. Gerard was thrusting into me, searching for that one spot...

 

"OH SHIT," I screamed, throwing my head back and moaning and nearly pulling the sheets off of my bed. Gee slowed down, but I shook my head. "N-NO, RIGHT THERE–A-AHHHH," I squealed, Gerard hitting the spot again. He was panting and moaning; he was a wreck.

 

He continued to thrust, going faster and hitting my prostate every time. "J-JESUS GERARD. GEE, OH GOD, GEE!" I yelled, about to reach my orgasm. Without notice, I felt a warm liquid explode inside of me. Gerard rode out his orgasm with a long, high-pitched moan. As soon as he collapsed, I squealed like a dying pig and rode out my own orgasm, cum leaking everywhere; onto me, onto Gee, onto my bed. 

 

We both collapsed onto the bed and filled the room with heavy breathing. The aroma of sweat and sex filled the air, and I loved it. Both of us continued panting, falling from our orgasms. "You were so fuhking hot, F-Frankie," Gee whispered, running his hand through my hair. I smiled and replied, "Not as hot as you..."

 

For minutes, we gasped for breath, and finally, we had gotten into "pajamas". And by pajamas, I mean I put my boxers back on and gave Gee a clean pair of underwear (his were wet with pre-come). We decided to hit the hay a little early; it was about 8:45, but we were both exhausted. 

 

"Thank you, Frank," Gee said, hugging me from behind. He was the big spoon, and I the small. I mean, how was I supposed to fit around him? He nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck, kissing me below my jawline. 

 

"I love you so much," I whispered to him. 

 

"I love you more."

 

 


	13. How to Wash Your Body Right by Gerard Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's follow Gee and Fronkeh into the shower. You wanna? I wanna. I really wanna. I'm creepy, okay, enjoy this chapter! xoromanticizingchemicals

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

Frank was very submissive.

 

At first, I could tell that he wanted to be the dominant one, but I thought that he'd be more willing to follow commands.

 

Besides, being in charge works for me.

 

That was the best sex I had ever had... Considering that I had only done it twice before. I was just a natural at ordering people around...

 

I woke up with my lips pressed softly against Frank's, like we did most nights, and my eyes fluttered open. 

 

"Morning sleeping beauty," Frankie muttered against my lips, his breath warm and soothing. I smiled and pressed my lips into his more, and he closed his eyes. "Morning, sunshine." 

 

We we laid like that for several minutes, and then Frank sat up and rubbed his eyes. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to remove his eyeliner from yesterday, so his eyes now looked like they had been punched.

 

"You got a little something there..." I said, pointing to his face. Realization dawned upon him, and he ran to the bathroom. I giggled and sat up, stretching and yawning.

 

I looked at my phone, checking the time. It was only 7:46, and it was a Saturday. Which was a relief. No work. Just me and Frank and old horror flicks.

 

He came back from the bathroom, eyes clean. I looked up at him (which wasn't really too far, because I was still sitting on the bed and he was just short), and he leaned down to kiss my jawline.

 

"You could behead a person with your jawline, fuhker," he said, taking in my scent. 

 

"Are you _smelling_ me?" I asked, pushing Frank back. He giggled and nodded. "Yeah, and you're all sweaty. You need a shower," he remarked, winking. 

 

I loved that wink so much.

 

I knew where he was going with this, so I stood up and began walking to his bathroom. I looked in the mirror, disgusted at my own state.

 

I was wearing only boxers, so I slid them down and kicked them to the side. Before I could start the shower, Frank walked in behind me, hugging me around the waist and pushing me into the sink counter. I moaned and bit my lip, and Frank kissed me behind the ear.

 

"I love you even if you smell bad," he said softly, planting kisses down my neck. I whimpered and laughed, and then pushed him back. "Well, I need to shower. You could join if you wanted to..." I teased, pulling back the shower curtain and turning on the water. 

 

When I turned around, I saw that Frank had already removed his underwear and his length was free and limp. Just normal Frank hot dog...

"Thought you'd never ask," he said, stepping around me and getting into the shower. I followed him in, the warm water hitting my back pleasantly. It was a tight fit, but we managed. "Honey, this shower isn't big enough for the two of us," he added, shoving me against the wall. I rolled my eyes and squirt some of his strawberry shampoo into my palm.

 

Scrubbing my scalp, I sighed partially out of relief as I felt the effects of not washing my hair for weeks at a time. I loved my hair, but I didn't wash it regularly. Instead of smelling like cigarettes, coffee, and sweat, my hair would smell like strawberries.

 

Lovely.

 

I felt Frank reach past me to grab the body wash, his fingers brushing my side. I smiled to myself and continued scrubbing my hair vigorously. "Help meeeeeee," Frank whined shrilly, holding up the body wash and a washcloth. I turned around and studied him. He was making that damn puppy face. 

 

Fuhk him.

 

I took the washcloth and applied a generous amount of soap, the liquid smelling like Frank. Because that's what he smelled like sometimes, other than cigarettes and cologne. I put the body wash back and began washing Frank, which was pretty weird. I only washed myself, so washing someone else was foreign to me.

 

But I guess I was doing a good job. I began behind his ears, whining like a mother, "You have to be sure to clean behind your ears. We don't put gum there, and we don't rub dirt there either!" He chuckled, letting me finish the area.

 

I moved on, making sure to clean every inch of him. I traced his tattoos, savoring the moment. Frank was beautiful... He really was.

 

And he was all mine.

 

As I moved down, I finally reached his lower body area, taking special care to clean his member delicately. As I washed around its base, Frank moaned softly but bit the rest back. I smirked and continued, enjoying the fact that me cleaning him gave him a boner. It was so satisfying. "Settle down, Frank. I'm just cleaning you off," I mused, moving down his legs. 

 

He grunted in response, closing his eyes as I finished. I stood back up and rinsed off the washcloth, pushing Frank into the water. He rinsed the soap off and turned to me, kissing me lightly. "My hair, too?" he asked hopefully, holding up the bottle of strawberry shampoo. I rolled my eyes but didn't object.

 

I applied the shampoo to his hair and scrubbed in small circles. He sighed, saying, "You're really good at washing hair. It's stress-relieving, the way you do it." I smiled in delight and continued to wash his hair, pushing him into the water to rinse the shampoo out. 

 

I then squirt some conditioner into his hair and began rubbing that in, too. I let it sit while I applied conditioner to my own hair, which took longer because my hair was longer. 

 

"Need help?" Frank asked eagerly, gesturing to my body. I felt my heart leap, and I let him wash me. It was a major turn-on, but most of all, it was soothing. It was better than any massage. It was better than any bath salt or weird oatmeal you put into baths. 

 

Frank was a fuhking magician.

 

"Oh G-God, Frank," I whimpered as he reached my third leg (I don't know, it just sounds weird saying penis. I'm running out of synonyms here!). He took special care in washing it, wrapping the washcloth around it and running it up and down. Kinda like a handjob, but rougher.

 

After he was done with that, he continued washing me. He didn't say anything, but I didn't need him to. His actions were enough. We finally finished rinsing out our hair and washing off our bodies. Turning off the water, we stepped out of the shower and wrapped two towels around our bodies.

 

"We should shower together more often," Frankie said lightly, taking my hand and leading me to his bedroom. I muttered an eager "mhmm" and accepted one of his t-shirts graciously. We got dressed in sweatpants and cotton shirts, only because it was Saturday and neither of us had to go to work. 

 

Frank pulled his skeleton sweater over his head, and asked me if I wanted a sweater as well. I shook my head and picked up dirty clothes that littered the floor. He had gone to lengths to clean up for me, so the least I could do was pick up some soiled laundry.

 

"Whatcha wanna do then, Gee?" he asked, making his way towards the couch. I shrugged and followed him to the sofa, plopping down in my side of it.

 

He fell into my lap, his head cradled by my legs. I stroked his hair lovingly, which was still damp from the shower. He closed his eyes and breathed through his cute little nose. Frankie was literally the cutest thing ever, and I still couldn't get over that. 

 

"Hey hey hey hey," I said in a high pitched voice. "Hmm?" he asked, his eyes still closed. "Love you," I said, and he grabbed my hand, rubbing his cheek against the back of it. 

 

We decided to pop in some old VHS's, not really caring about the actual movie. We just liked something going in the background. It was comforting. 

 

I kissed his forehead softly and cradled him, never wanting to let go. 

 


	14. The Question of Gee's Hair Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think maybe it's time that Gee gets his hair dyed black. I know that the order in which his hair appears is highly inaccurate, and so is his age and whatnot, but bare with me! It's fiction....

Frank's P.O.V.

***

Gee had very soft hands. I liked his hands.

 

"Geeeee," I whined at him, and he ran his hand through my hair. "Yus?" he asked in reply. 

 

"I'm really bored and I'm not sure what we should do," I said, and he bit his lip like he does when someone else is talking. So damn adorable. 

 

"Well, I'm not sure what we can do. I think that we should go on a double date with Mikes and Alicia, though. That'd be nice," he said slowly, "But only if you wanna."

 

I shrugged and replied, "I'm down for it. Call 'em up and we'll set it up... How about dinner at Olive Garden?" I knew that Mikey loved him some breadsticks, and what better place to go than to Olive Garden? Gerard nodded in approval at my idea and took out his phone. "But first..." he said, and squeezed my cheeks so that my lips formed a little pucker, "Instagram!" He smiled his small-toothed smile and took a picture of us. 

 

"You're so mainstream," I said irritably, rubbing my sore cheeks. "But you love me," he pointed out, calling Mikey. After a few rings, Mikey's voice blared through the speakers of his phone, which he had set to speaker mode so that I could hear. 

 

"Hey Gee," the voice said, and Gee and I chimed a greeting right back at Mikey. "We were wondering if you and Alicia wanted to go on a double date with us tonight at Olive Garden," Gerard proposed, and we could hear Alicia in the background of Mikey, saying, "OH YEAH TOTALLY MIKES PLEEEEASE!" 

 

"Don't have to ask me twice. Their breadsticks are the best!" he exclaimed, "We'll meet you guys at seven, if that works. Byeeee!" Gee and I chorused our farewells and hung up. 

 

"It's a date!" Gee said, turning off his phone and kissing me gently on the lips. I savored his taste; he had just brushed his teeth, so he tasted pretty minty. "So you smelled me earlier, and now you're tasting me?" Gerard asked, amused. I rolled my eyes at him and he laughed. 

 

We heard a knock at the door, and Gee got up to answer it. I stayed on the couch, but without Gerard as my pillow, I was left colder than before. "Hey Gerard!" an excited voice said, and I immediately recognized the sounds of Ray's voice. Over the past month, Gee and I had been going over to his friend's basement and playing with him. He was really great, and funny. He always had a way of bringing light into the room.

 

"HEY RAY," I called, still not moving. "HEY FRANK," he called back, and Gerard invited him inside of the apartment. I took up the whole couch, so Gee told me to move my lazy ass over, but I refused. So, he solved this my sitting on my stomach, causing me to bring my knees up to my chest–kind of, since Gee was there–and Ray took that moment to sit in the spot where my legs were just laying. 

 

"Fuhk you both!" I spat, trying to shove Gerard off of me. He wouldn't budge, so I had to deal with the weight crushing my stomach. Gee and Ray started talking about ideas for songs, which was weird since Mikey wasn't there. Mikey was always there to come up with song lyrics and song titles, even if the little "band" was just for fun. I didn't really ever play out in public with them; I let them play together. We sometimes played at the guitar shop or at café's when we had the time.

 

But I preferred to watch everyone from the audience, which was normally small and uninterested. But that never stopped any of us. Matt, the friend of Ray's who let us play in his basement, played the drums for them. I really liked the music they came up with, especially this one song called "Skylines and Turnstiles." A few weeks ago, about the time when we really started to get to know Ray, 9-11 happened. Everyone was devastated, and the guys' way of coping with that terror was by playing in their little band.

 

It didn't really have a name yet. Mikey brainstormed some names, and one that we all particularly liked was "My Chemical Romance", and we used it sometimes, but we weren't really a band yet.

 

It was more of an idea. 

 

"So I was thinking, and I think we should take the next big step," Ray said, and I glanced up at Gee. He looked at Ray questioningly, with that cute eyebrow raise thing... Love that face too. "Like what kind of next step thing, Ray? I don't really think the band's gonna go to far, I mean really..." Gee said slowly, pursing his lips at Ray. 

 

Ray shrugged helplessly. "I know, I know... But me and Mikey were talking about it, and we decided that we should start something. Make it bigger. Write another song. Skylines and Turnstiles and the other small songs are great, Gee, but we can't keep playing cover songs and those few undeveloped songs. We need to write more. I can mix music and we can maybe get a record label or something in the future!" he said hopefully. Gee made a hissing noise in the back of his throat and intertwined his fingers.

 

"Ray," he said seriously, "I really don't think this will go too far. It's a pastime. An idea. Not a real band, like Metallica or Iron Maiden or anything so serious. But if you want another song, we could work on one..." Ray smiled widely. "Really? Because I have some great ideas!" he started, but just then, his phone started to ring. He took it out of his pocket and answered it. 

 

"Hey, Matt. Yeah, what's up? You want me there now? Like, right now? As in right now right– Fine. I'm on my way. Yeah, bye," he said, the other half of the conversation hidden to us. Ray looked at us apologetically and stood up. "We'll discuss this some other time. Bye guys!" he told us, and then walked out the door. 

 

Gee and I looked at each other. I knew that Gerard was in college right now, about to graduate, and the band really was a secondary thing. It really was just an idea. "It's okay," I said soothingly, petting Gee's face from where I was laying underneath him, "We'll be okay. The band probably won't get too far. But that doesn't mean that we can crush Ray's hopes and dreams..." Gerard nods and stands up, releasing all the pressure from my stomach and leaving me sore. 

 

"Thank you, for Gee's sake," I cried, exasperated and panting. Gerard laughed and pulled me off of the couch, standing me straight up. "Love you," he said, nuzzling my nose with his own by bending down a little bit. I leaned in and kissed him gently, just like we always did. 

 

And did I mention how much I love Gerard Way? 

 

***

 

Gee and I had changed out of our hang-around clothes and into something a little bit more presentable. I wore a pair of red skinny jeans (because Gee said they made my butt look lovely) and a loose tank top with a skeleton hand on it. The hand was making obscene gestures which I shall not state. Over that, I wore a black sweater, not bothering to button it up.

 

Gerard wore something even more presentable than me. He still insisted on wearing his favorite black skinny jeans, but he wore a red cardigan over a white t-shirt. The cardigan was almost as dark as my pants, and Gee rocked a cardigan.

 

"Someone is looking handsome as fuhk," I said from the doorway of the bathroom, watching Gerard as he combed his red hair. For once, it was clean. Gee frowned at his reflection and ruffled his hair. "I dunno if I like this color anymore... What do you think if I got it cut and dyed black, maybe? I had it like that once and I want it back..."

 

I frowned at his reflection too, to which he hurriedly said, "But if you don't want me to, I won't change it. I only want to be more sexy for you, because..." I shook my head, saying, "No, no, no." 

 

I came up behind him and hugged him around his waist. Even though his bright red hair clashed with his cardigan in a not-so-fashion forward way, he was still sexy as hell. He was always sexy...

 

"Gee, if you want to, then you do that. Heck, if you wanna go get that done right now, we have time. We have like four more hours until we meet Mikes and Alicia. You wanna go get your hair done? We'll go get your hair done," I whisper, nuzzling the crook of his neck, "You're always perfect no matter what you look like."

 

He blushed and brought his hands up to my arms on his shoulders. "Thanks, Frankie. I actually kinda do wanna go out to get my hair done. It's been this way forever, and if we could go get it done, I'd be really happy..." Gee said sincerely, turning his head to kiss my arm. So we get our shoes on and head out the door, to Gee's car. We barely used it, but we didn't know how far away the hair salon place was. 

 

We drove around the city for about ten minutes, and we finally found a place with hair dye advertisements, hair styles, and other crap plastered to their display windows.

 

"I don't know how long it'll be. I can't just dye it from bright red to black, so it may take a while. Feel free to leave whenever," Gee told me as we walked through the jangling door of the hair place. A lady and loud curly hair stood behind the counter, looking up as we walked in. 

 

She winked at Gee, and he grabbed my hand. To this action, she scoffed to herself and looked back at her schedule. "Mm, could I maybe get an appointment?" Gerard asked her, biting his lip. She looked back up and pursed her lips. "We obviously don't have any customers," she said, gesturing to the area behind her. It was true; the place was clear of any customers. Only ladies in white aprons gossiped in the back. 

 

"Great. I just need to get my hair cut and dyed, if that's possible. I'm not sure if there's any way I can get my hair dyed in less than four hours, because I have somewhere I need to be and..." Gee started to explain, but the lady drew her eyebrows together. "We could probably to that. Follow me," she walked into the back, Gee in tow. I followed them, looking around and inhaling the aroma of chemicals.

 

"Wait here," she told Gerard, and went to go fetch one of the gossiping ladies. Gee looked at me and reached out to grab his chair. The lady then seated him in one of the salon chairs, observing his hair and asking him what he wanted to do to it. "I wanna dye it black, and cut it and layer it, if that's possible. And maybe in four or less hours? We have somewhere we need to be..." he replied, tilting his head towards me.

 

The lady nodded and kept looking at his hair. "I'll do my best to get it done in less that four hours. I think I can, since it's black, but we'll have to see. You may have to deal with a very very dark red for tonight, and then come back tomorrow when you have more time," she told him, "So could you take off your cardigan and put this on, please?" With that, she handed him a huge apron, and he tied it behind his neck. 

 

My eyes grew droopy, even though I had slept longer than I normally did last night. Gee looked over at me and pushed my hair out of my face. "Tired?" he asked, his voice distant. I nodded, and then nodded off to sleep. 

 

Gerard was the last image on my mind, and he was fuhking perfect as ever.

 

 


	15. I Think I Never Liked You Anyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nooooo! This chapter isn't about Frank and Gee splitting. I swear. It's Mikey and Alicia being douchebags. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Frank's P.O.V.

***

Someone shook me awake, but I didn't remember falling asleep. 

 

I'm not very good at remembering things. 

 

" _Frankiiiiiie_ ," a voice chimed cheerfully, and I saw that it was coming from some man with longish, shortish, dark red hair. Like, very dark red hair. But he looked like Gerard. "G-Gee?" I asked for confirmation, and he nodded, a huge smile plastered to his face. 

 

His is hair was as dark as my pants, even darker.

 

"We're gonna have to come back tomorrow, when we have more time," Gee told me, running his hands through his hair. It was hot. And the color suited him. "Okay..." I said sleepily, still not fully awake. "Instagram!" Gee shouted, running over behind me with his phone in his hand. I blinked as he took a picture of us; and I looked awful. I looked fuhking loaded.

 

"DON'T POST THAT SHIT," I cried, trying to snatch the phone out of his hands. But it was a waste of energy, because Gerard giggled and posted the picture. We walked to the counter, scheduled tomorrow's appointment, and left the place. It was growing dark outside, and I realized that it was probably time for the date. "We're a few minutes late, so we better go," Gee said, opening the car door for me. I slipped into the passenger's seat and he closed my door. 

 

Five minutes later, we parked in the parking lot of Olive Garden, which was unusually crowded. "Shit..." Gee muttered nervously as a car almost back into our car. We found a parking spot a few minutes later, and we walked into the restaurant, hand-in-hand. "I think Mikey's here... He probably reserved a spot or something," Gee said, rubbing my index finger with his thumb in a soothing way. He knew that I had problems in small spaces, especially with so many people moving around. 

 

Sure enough, Mikey waved at us from a booth, and the waitress said that they had been expecting us. We sat down and told the lady what we wanted to drink, and then turned to Mikey and Alicia.

 

"Late as usual," Alicia said, shaking her head at us. Gee turned pink and grabbed my hand, squeezing slightly. He hated knowing that we were late because of him. "I-I'm sorry... I just wanted to get my hair dyed, and–"

 

"Is _that_ the color?" Mikey asked shamelessly, taking a sip of brown liquid from his cup. Gee tensed up and scratched his neck with his free hand. "No, I'm going back tomorrow to get it dyed black..." he explained in a low voice. Mikey nodded and set the glass down. Gerard looked on the verge of tears, and he rarely cries. I don't know what had gotten into Mikey and Alicia, but I wasn't liking it a bit. "Hey," I said, upset, "What's wrong with you two? Excuse him for wanting to get something done for himself. All he ever does is give, give, give. He never does anything for himself."

 

Alicia pursed her lips, and Mikey furrowed his brow. "I wasn't trying to be rude!" he defended himself, and the waitress came back with a cup of lemonade for me and some Coke for Gee, who was now a bright fuchsia. "Well, that's how it came off!" I retorted, ignoring the waitress. 

 

"Have you guys decided what you want to eat–"

 

"Well I'm just irritated because you guys were nearly half an hour late, and you were the ones who arranged this!" Alicia spewed angrily. The argument was so pointless. Why were we arguing? "I just need to take your order," the poor waitress interrupted. I sighed and picked up a menu, ordering just a bowl of cheddar potato soup. Despite my hunger, it was the cheapest thing on the menu.

 

Gerard copied my order, and Alicia and Mikey got some spaghetti to split. The waitress left, looking quite distressed. We sat in silence for a few moments, with the occasional sip of a drink and Mikey chewing a breadstick. "Why'd you get it dyed, Gee?" Mikey finally asked. 

 

Gee choked on his drink and forced it down, coughing while I pounded him on his back. "It was g-getting old and– I wanted to change it u-up," he coughed out, gasping for air. Mikey and Alicia watched us intently, and Gee finally stopped coughing.

 

"Well, it's very interesting. I guess we'll see the final result tomorrow then," Alicia said tightly, sipping from her cup. The silence consumed us again, people talking loudly in the background, and the noise of dishes clanking loudly filled the air. Finally, our food came out, and we took it graciously as an excuse to fill the awkward void. "Hang in there," I whispered to Gee, whose color had finally returned back to normal. He nodded and shoveled a spoonful of hot soup into his mouth. 

 

Everyone ate, and Mikey ate all of the breadsticks. I only got one, but for some reason, I wasn't too hungry. I was just hurt... I felt the sadness coming off of Gee, and I'm like a sponge. I soak up the emotions of others, especially Gerard. 

 

"So how's college?" Mikey said suddenly, looking at Gerard. Gee shrugged and stared into his bowl of steaming soup. "School's school," he replied without emotion, "I haven't done too much. Been working on some stuff, but it's not any good. I've just been really busy, that's all."

 

Mikey nodded, but said nothing. When everyone had finished their meals, the waitress came back to ask if we wanted anything else. Mikey asked for more breadsticks, planning to take them home, and a to-go box. 

 

"Well, thanks for coming. Even if you were late," Alicia said emotionlessly, "Sorry that we offended you..." Mikey and her exchanged glances, but said nothing as they packaged up the breadsticks and payed their portion of the bill. We did the same, and then we parted ways. 

 

The fate of the date was doomed the moment that Gee had wanted to get his hair changed. And I wasn't mad at him in the slightest. No, he was always working his ass off for other people. He never did anything for himself. And being thirty minutes late suddenly made him guilty of everything ever. 

In the car on the way home, we didn't talk. Gerard gave the occasional sniff, but we didn't share any conversation. And when we made it up to my apartment, Gee mumbled something about taking a shower. 

 

I felt this sudden rage. Maybe it was the way that Gee shut the door behind him when he went into the bathroom. Maybe it was the click of the lock of the bathroom door. Maybe it was the shaking sobs that quietly trickled from beneath the door of the bathroom. Whatever it was, it sent me into an angered rage. I cried out violently and slammed the door to my room, locking it and looking around. I ripped the sheets from the bed, which were still soiled from last night, and threw them to the ground. I began pushing comics over and throwing my guitars across the room. 

 

None me of them broke, but I wanted them to. I wanted them to break like my heart. Like Gee's heart. I wanted to smash them against Mikey's head, and against Alicia's face. I wanted to hurt anyone who had hurt Gerard. He constantly came home in this state, and I was fuhking tired of all the shit that he had to deal with. I continued throwing my fit, and when I had ripped out the clothes from all the drawers and thrown those across the floor and ruined everything, I backed up against a wall and slid down, dry sobs shaking me violently.

 

I was pretty sure that the person next to me had heard all of this, because, once again, the walls were very slim. But I didn't care. I just sat there, knees to my chest, face in my hands, shaking and sobbing and crying out. I couldn't help Gee. I couldn't help him. Shitty person I am, I couldn't help him.

 

This was all my fault.

 

I began throwing my head into the wall, the physical pain making me feel something other than the emotional and mental pain that was tearing me apart. Nothing would help. Nothing would help. Nothing would help. 

 

Eventually, I got too tired to even hit my head, and my sobs turned into dry coughs. My throat was so sore, but I didn't want to move. I was a distaster waiting to happen. I'm not sure why I thought this, but I did. And it ruined me.

 

Proof?

 

My slumped figure against the wall, digging my fingers into my wrists to hard that they began to bleed. My sobs that kept me up for another hour. The knocks at the door that I refused to acknowledge. 

 

The pain in my heart that was ripping at me, and the small voice at the back of my head listing every single one of my faults. 


	16. Drawing and Coffee

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

It hurt.

 

It hurt so much to know that I had fuhked up another day. Another person's life. Another attempt at kindness. Fuhking ugly, useless, shitty little bastard I am. I tried to knock on Frank's bedroom door, because after trying to knob, I found out that it was locked.

 

He never locked his doors.

 

But then again, with me in the apartment, how could I blame him? Plus, I had locked the bathroom door too. He was probably angry at me. He probably hated me for making us late. He probably loathed me for embarrassing him. These thoughts were wood to flames, and I started to cry again. 

 

I couldn't stop.

 

I usually didn't cry. But when I fuhked up and it affected someone else, I did. And I knew that this fit would last a while. I finally gave up on the lock and put my back against the door, sliding down into a sitting position, silent sobs shaking me harshly.

 

"F-Frank," I pleaded quietly, knowing that Frank couldn't hear me, "P-Please let me in. I-I'm so sorry. I'm such a f-fuhk... A fuhk-up."

 

He didn't answer the door. I couldn't hear his sobs anymore, either. He must have cried himself to sleep. Frank didn't cry too often. Every now and again, he'd cry for one reason or another, but he was easily comforted by a few kind words and soft kisses.

 

But something told me that this was different. 

 

I tried to compose myself, the sobs still erupting from my throat at unpredictable moments. I stood up, gasping for air, and reached up to the top of the door frame. It was dusty, since Frank couldn't reach it when he cleaned, but I moved my hand around in hopes of finding the little door key. 

 

My heart leapt as I knocked over a sort of bar of metal, which was the key to the room. I picked it up off of the ground and inserted it into the hole in the doorknob. After shoving it around for a few minutes, there was a click from within the works of the knob, and I was able to quietly turn it and step into the room. 

 

Or should I say disaster zone.

 

The place was completely annihilated; there were comics strewn across the floor like water in an ocean, and clothes were flung all over the place. Posters were laying on the floor, crumpled and forgotten, and Frank's guitars were on the ground, against the wall. The bedsheets were balled up by the bed, and I sighed at the mess.

 

In a rage, Frankie must've torn up his room. He hadn't ever done this... To this extent, at least. Sure, every now and again he'd tear down a poster or two, or pull out a few shirts. But this was total, utter destruction. I looked around for Frank, and found him slumped against a wall, nearly falling sideways. 

 

"Frankie..." I whispered softly, walking all over the mess in the room towards Frank. His face was a wreck; it was red and blotchy with tears, and the occasional hiccup-sob shook him. His wrists were littered with crescent-shaped marks, cut up and lined with dried blood. 

 

His fingernails, I guess. 

 

Broken and hurt, he had ruined himself again. Was it because of me? Had my selfish actions caused this? 

 

I began thinking the worst possible thoughts, but then decided that I probably should get Frankie on the bed. Careful not to wake him, I slipped a hand behind his neck and the other underneath his knees, grunting as I heaved him up from his position. 

 

He stirred a bit, but didn't wake up. I set him gently on part of the bed, finding a fuzzy blanket that he had gotten from his mother a while back to throw over his body. I walked around the bed and planted a soft kiss on his forehead, and then I walked into the living room.

 

I had already taken a shower, even though I had wasted half an hour crying beforehand. I was a depressed mess, but I never cut myself. No. I remember once going through a phase of burning myself. Burning my wrists. But the pain didn't help. And that had lead to my attempted suicide, but Mikey had ruined my plan. That was a few years ago, and Frankie didn't know. 

 

He would never know.

 

I walked into the kitchen and made myself some coffee, pulling out my sketchbook and pencils. I felt a sudden surge of inspiration from nowhere, and began to draw. I found myself in the frame of Frankie's bedroom door, and I drew him. He had the perfect features to draw; the symmetrical face, the sexy tattoos, the hair, the body...

 

He didn't toss and turn in his sleep, which was good. It wasn't hard to draw him, but if he moved, it would be. 

 

I don't know how long I stood there, but it was long enough for my legs to grow incredibly numb. Luckily, I finished my drawing. I finished it off with Frank's lip ring, which was still in. I could only see part of it, but I added it anyways. I admired every single one of his piercings. I loved all of his tattoos and features. I loved him. 

 

I looked down at my work and nodded, then decided to join Frank in bed. I went to lay by him, but I didn't fall asleep. I spent a few minutes on my phone, scrolling through Tumblr and Pinterest. Nothing new, nothing big. Nothing ever new happened, but I still checked. I looked at pictures of random crap, my mind somewhere else.

 

Somewhere far away.

 

***

 

Morning found me with my arms wrapped around Frank, hugging him and holding him close. My eyes were sore, and my throat was annoyingly dry. I yawned, and Frank shifted slightly.

 

He always woke up earlier than me, but even if I had him in a headlock, he never moved. "You awake, or just yawning?" his voice squeaked, and I mumbled. He nodded and shifted again, kissing my arm. I closed my eyes and sighed. 

 

"Frank, I'm–"

 

"No, don't apologize," Frank interrupted suddenly, "Don't you dare apologize. There's no reason for you to say sorry or to feel bad. Fuhk them. I don't know what's up. They seemed off. Things seemed off. Let's forget it and ignore them for a while. Besides, we need to get going to your appointment..." I nodded and kissed Frank behind his ear, and then I slid out of bed and began to get dressed.

 

However, I had forgotten about the mess that Frank had made, but I didn't say anything as I picked my way through the random clothes on the ground. I managed to find a yellow and black striped shirt and some black skinny jeans, and I put them on. Frank hadn't moved, except that he had sat up to watch me. "You're beautiful," he said as I pulled my feet through the jeans. 

 

I smiled softly and pulled the jeans to my waist, doing a foot-to-foot jump thing. Frankie laughed that adorable laugh of his and asked me to throw him some clothes. I got him a pair of slim jeans and a green shirt, which sported a single black line across the breast area.

 

After we had finished dressing and eating "breakfast" (which was really just coffee and a half bagel each) we left the apartment to get to my appointment. It was kind of early, and it was Sunday. The streets weren't too crowded, so we made fast time in getting there.

 

"Let's go get dat hair dyed," Frankie said as we walked through the doors. 

 

I smiled and kissed his cheek. "Let's do it."

 

 


	17. Nightmares of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Lots of stuff here. There is a reference to Bert and Frank's relationship, and it does get to a point where Bert gets drunk. So yeah. It doesn't get descriptive, really. Okay, enjoy guys! It's kinda sad, though...

Frank's P.O.V.

***

Gee didn't seem very dazed.

 

He didn't say anything about me completely destroying the bedroom. He didn't say anything about last night. I loved him for that. He forgave and forgot. Gerard was very forgiving.

 

"Today you haven more time, so we can do more with your hair," the hairdresser said as she approached Gee, who was sitting in the salon chair. He nodded, and the lady led him to the back of the salon. He made a small wave at me and followed her, and I smiled and pulled out my phone.

 

Two new texts.

 

That was really weird, because no one except for Gee ever texted me. One of the texts was from Mikey, and one was from my mother. I opened the text from Mikey, and read the message:

 

"Is Gee still getting his hair done? I need to talk to him."

 

I scrunched my nose at that. He needed to talk to Gee, but he couldn't tell me what it was about? I did a finger dance above the keyboard and began typing: 

 

"He just went into the back. Why, what's up?"

 

And then I switched over to my mother's messages, and read her newest message:

 

"How's Gee? How're you? Are you busy next weekend?"

 

I smiled. My mother was really understanding. Her and my dad were really understanding. They loved Gee, even though they hadn't really ever met him. I replied:

 

"He's great. Just getting his hair done. And I'm great, too. And yeah, I think we're free next weekend..."

 

After I sent the text, Mikey texted me back:

 

"Nothing. Ask him if he can meet me at my place tomorrow after work."

 

I scoffed and jabbed at the keyboard:

 

"Fine."

 

He didn't deserve anything more than that, and I wasn't gonna give him more than that either. After the way he had treated Gee last night, I didn't owe him shit.

 

I aimlessly scrolled through my phone, not really knowing what to do, until I decided to go into the back of the salon with Gerard. I wanted to see his hair, anyways.

 

" _Geeeee_ ," I whined when I got into the back and Gerard was hiding behind a sink. "No! I'm not showing you until it's done!" he retorted, and the lady shooed me out. I puffed angrily and made my way back to the chair. But I didn't want to sit. Instead, I went over to the actual waiting area and looked at the candy jar.

 

The lady at the front desk had gone out for a lunch break, and no one else was in the salon, so I dunked my hand into the jar and withdrew a variety of peppermints, Life Savers, Jolly Ranchers, and other sugary snacks. I began unwrapping them and popping them into my mouth, chewing, sucking, and just seeing how much I could fit in at once.

 

I heard Gee squeal from the back, and I shot up like a bullet to run to the back. Turns out that the lady had dunked his head into cold water, and he just wasn't expecting it. I made a sort of "I'm watching you" sign at the lady and returned to my spot. After eating the candy, I decided to take a smoke break. 

 

I stepped outside side and took out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting the end and taking a drag off of it. Smoking really just got my mind off of things, and though it was bad for me, I still did it. So did Gee. And against the cold winter air, the warmth of the cigarette was soothing. I forgot about Mikey. I forgot about my job and Gee's shitty life. I forgot about everything that bothered me as I sucked in the nicotine and blew it out in dancing clouds of gray and silver. 

 

A squirrel scampered across the street towards a tree, climbing up it. I watched the cars zoom around, the busy commuters as they traveled quickly amongst the sidewalks. It was Sunday, so the traffic wasn't that bad. I finished the cigarette and threw it into the smoke tray above the gray trash can, the last bit of smoke twisting into the air. I blew some breath out of my mouth and watched it as it danced into the air, as it was pretty cold outside. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked back into the salon.

 

"Are you guys almost done or no?" I called back, to which the annoyed salon worker replied, "Ask again and see what happens! He hasn't even been here for an hour! Feel free to take a nap!" I reluctantly took her advice and climbed into a salon chair, leaning back and closing my eyes.

 

Splashing water and snatches of conversation were all I heard, as sleep was sweeping over me like a smooth blanket. I felt my eyes grow heavier as I slipped into a doze, and my dreams were oddly vivid:

 

_I was running. Through a hall. And I bumped into a man that was considerably taller than me. "Oh, hey baby," he said, his voice raspy and slurred. It sounded like he had been drinking–a lot. My heart started racing, and I backed up. "I... B-Bert, have you been drinking again?" I found the words, tripping over my foot and falling down. He giggled and hiccuped, tossing aside an empty beer bottle._

 

_It crashed as it collided with the wood floor of the hallway, and I scrambled backwards to escape him. "Mhmm. Wanna get in bed? I'm in the mood tonight, and you must be too!" Bert responded, reaching for my hands. I shook my head and continued scooting backwards, my hands trailing along the floor. It was no use; Bert took ahold of my shirt and yanked me to my feet._

 

_"What do you mean, no?" he cried, taking a handful of my hair and pulling. I screamed and thrashed out, trying to get away. He dragged me to his room and shoved me onto the bed. "Dry. You don't deserve anything. You're a little bitch, looking at that neighbor of yours like that... I-I guess I'm not good enough for you?" Bert said in a hurt voice, pulling my shirt over my head. I started to cry like a little baby, and he unbuttoned my pants. "B-Bert! Please!" I said through sobs, trying to get away._

 

_He smiled a crooked smile, sliding my pants down my legs. "You looked at that guy across the hall from your apartment, didn't you?" Bert asked angrily, his grip numbing my arm as he yanked off my boxers. I screamed and kicked, but he didn't stop. "N-No! I didn't! I didn't, I s-swear!" I cried out, tears falling from my eyes like waterfalls. He let go of me for a moment, and, naked, I scrambled across the bed, but he grabbed my leg and pulled me back._

 

_"W-Where are you going, sweetie?" he hiccuped, laughing. He had pulled down his pants and was holding my legs down with his slippery hands. Despite the slickness of his hands, he still had a death grip on me, pinning my legs to the bed. "No lube, n-no condom. Dry!" he said loudly, and, in the last flash of my dream, I saw him jerk forward, my helpless screams filling my head._

 

 _"_ Frank!" a voice startled me suddenly, and I let out a small scream as my eyes shot open. Gee was standing in front of me with a towel wrapped around his head, a look of concern flooding his features. "Are you okay? What happened?" he asked me, reaching for my face and stroking it gently. My heart was beating wildly, pain still hinting at different parts of my body.

 

I realized that I was breathing loudly, and I tried to quiet it down a little bit. "Y-yeah, I'm fine..." I said softly, rubbing my arms. I had these nightmares frequently. I had dreams of Bert beating me or harassing me when we were a couple, and even that one was a common dream I had. 

 

He was always drunk.

 

"We'll talk about it later. Or do you want to talk about it now?" Gerard asked softly, kissing me softly on the lips. I closed my eyes and whimpered quietly, glad that the lady wasn't in the front room. "Later..." I whispered back, and Gee kissed me again before returning to the back. I tried to calm myself down by doing some breathing exercises, and I took out my phone.

 

An hour had passed.

 

I had also gotten four new texts.

 

"I just wanted to meet Gee and you. I haven't seen you in ages, dear, and I've missed you! I heard that you two were living together!"

 

"You there? Did you fall asleep?"

 

"I guess you did. Please text me back so that we can set something up! Love you!"

 

"Hey Frankie. Wanna meet somewhere later tonight? I need to talk to you ;)"

 

My heart stopped at the last one. It was from Bert. The other three were from my mother, but the last one... I had just dreamed about him. I had _just_ dreamed about him. Just a few moments ago. 

 

I felt an involuntary tear slip out of my eye, and I quickly wiped it away.

 

"Fuhk no, asshole. I'm so done with you. We're not a thing. We're not friends. Fuhk you."

 

I then proceeded to block his number, which I had unblocked for purposes of communication through the animal shelter. But I didn't care. I wasn't going to talk to him. I wasn't going to see him. 

 

I wasnt going to work at that shelter.

 

I quickly rang up the people who ran the animal shelter. They were a wealthy couple who lived in the penthouse of one of the apartment complexes in the city, and they were very kind and understanding of my circumstance. They knew. 

 

"Hello, this is Dereck Young of the Young Animal Adoption Agency. How my I help you?" a voice said through the phone. One thing that I admired about Mr. Young was that he didn't believe in the automated messages and new technological shit. He was old-fashioned. "Yeah, hey, hi. It's Frank. Frank Iero," I stuttered, scratching behind my neck. 

 

"Oh, hello, Frankie!" Mr. Young's voice chimed from the other end, "How are you this... morning? Evening? Not sure. How are you? How are things with... you know..."

 

I coughed and thought for a few moments. "I'm fine. And not so good. I won't get into that, though," I decided on, "Hey, listen, I don't think I can work here anymore... At the shelter, I mean. Bert just being there... It's too much..." I thought that I was going to break into tears at my mention of Bert's name, because it brought so much pain.

 

"Oh! No worries! We fired him!" the voice answered cheerfully. My eyes opened wide. Fired him? As if he had read my thoughts, Mr. Young continued. "Yeah. We don't hire people who sexually assault people. And we definitely won't put up with it in the future. We reported him to the police, but they didn't do anything about it on account that we didn't have any evidence. He doesn't bother you anymore, does he?"

 

I blinked repeatedly, recalling the month or so ago that me and Gee had seen him there, helping out Mikey and Alicia. Fired him?

 

"N-no. Thank you, sir. I'll be in tomorrow, then. Sorry for wasting your time..." I said apologetically, and then I hung up.

 

Fired him? 

 

Thoughts were racing through my mind like it was the Boston Marathon. Bert had actually been fired on account of _me_? When had this happened? Why didn't I know?

 

"Frank! Who are you talking to?" Gee's voice called from the back. "N-Nothing! No one!" I lied, slipping my phone back into my pocket.

 

It had taken them long enough to fire him, but I had only told them about one time. One time. And they fired him. Like that. And then he texted me.

 

I had just lied to two people.

 

Gee and Mr. Young.

 

Gerard would find out the truth soon enough; he always did. But I didn't have to worry about Bert at the shelter anymore. No more Bert.

 

"No more Bert," I repeated to myself, assuring myself that it was actually true.

 

I looked at my feet and thought about Gerard for what seemed like hours. What he would say. What he would think. I was unclean. I was dirty. And he still loved me. And Mikey wanted to talk to him about something...

 

Probably about two hours later, Gerard came out from the back, his hair black, shortish, and layered. Much longer than the average man's hair, and much messier, but gorgeous.

 

He looked gorgeous always.

 

"Well fuhk," I said, eyes wide and mouth open at the sight before me. Gee giggled and blushed. "I guess you like it then?" he asked, and I nodded quickly. I stood up and hugged him around his neck.

 

"It'll be even better when I run my hands through it," I whispered into his ear, kissing his neck. He shivered and mumbled something, but I didn't hear him. We payed for the service and said our "thank you's" and "byes" to the hairdresser. 

 

We got into the car, Gerard's cut and color change distracting me. I just stared at it, because it was so... different. I hadn't ever seen him like that.

 

"So what was that screaming about?" Gee asked seriously, stopping at a stoplight, "You were screaming and flailing and I tried to wake you up... But you didn't wake up until a few minutes of me pushing you and shaking your shoulders." 

 

I bit my lip and the awful dream worked its way back into my thoughts. "I-I can't..." I started, but sighed. "It was about Bert. Another dream. Nightmare, actually. For the norm..." I explained in a slow, pained voice, "H-He... You know. I woke up before it happened. But when I woke up... He had texted me. He wanted to meet up somewhere. I was so scared."

 

Gerard turned to look at me, and he gripped my arm tightly. "W-What did you say?" he asked in a shaky voice. If Gee wanted anything, it was for me to stay safe. He cared for my safety more than his own. I had to be completely honest. 

 

"I told him to fuhk off. I... I told him that we weren't together and that I never wanted to see him again. After that–that dream, I was so done," I stumbled, "I called up Mr. Young and resigned from my job, because of Bert, and he told me that Bert... That they had fired him. That he was gone." Gee had to go because the light turned from red to green, but the apartment wasn't too far away now. 

 

"Is that it?" he asked finally, moving his hand to my thigh, rubbing it. It was slightly arousing, but it was meant to be comforting. And it was. "Yes. And my mom asked if we were busy this weekend. Like, five days from now," I replied, thinking about Mikey's text, "And Mikey needs to talk to you. In private, I guess. He couldn't tell me, even though I asked."

 

Gee scoffed and pulled into the parking spot besides the apartment complex building. "Whatever he can say to me, he can say to you!" he retorted sourly, parking and taking the keys out of the car. I opened my door and slid out into the lot, breathing in the cold, stinging air.

 

"It's okay," I said truthfully, "I don't wanna talk to him. If you don't wanna talk to him, then don't. But I think it'd be for the best." Gerard closed his car door and came around to meet me, taking my hand into his own. It had this everlasting warmth about it. No matter what the temperature, I always felt like his hands were warm. 

 

We we entered the building and ascended to our floor, unlocking the room and going in. I had forgotten about the mess that I had left in the room, but I decided to take care of it later. "Okay," Gee finally said, "I'll meet him later. I'm gonna give him a call and see if I can't avoid seeing him face-to-face."

 

With that, Gerard took out his phone and tapped on the screen a few times, and then pressed the phone against his ear. 

 

"Hey, Mikes."


	18. Could You Stop the Nonsense?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard for me to write. First of all, I had a shit of a time trying to find the time to write it. Secondly, there's a weird part (sexual yep get ready) in the middle, and I didn't know how to word that. Finally, the last part. I... hope you like it...

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

"Hey Mikes."

 

I listened to the crackling that was Mikey shifting on the other side of the line. "H-hey, Gee," he stuttered uncomfortably, "Look, I'm really sorry about what happened. I need to talk to you about something else, though. In private. Face-to-face..."

 

I squinted at nothing. "Why? Why can't we talk now? It'll be the same either way. What about?" I inquired, and I heard Mikey puff in the background. "It's about Frank."

 

I glanced at Frankie, who was making two cups of coffee in the kitchen. "What about it?" I asked slowly, not wanting to say "him" in fear of attracting Frank's attention. Mikey coughed. "I can't say right now. Just... Just meet me in front of that one cafè on Baker Street at eight." 

 

With that, he hung up. I lowered my hand and put my phone back into my pocket. What about Frank was there to be said? 

 

"What was that all about?" Frankie asked from the kitchen, his voice small. I turned around to face him. "Nothing. He wants to apologize."

 

I lied. And he could tell. But he didn't ask anymore.

 

"Well, I made you coffee. So drink up," Frank said skeptically, holding up a red mug with a white heart on it. I smiled and walked over to him, kissing him and taking the cup. "Thanks, Frankie," I said quietly, sipping from the mug.

 

The warm liquid rushed down my throat, and I sighed as it did. Coffee is the best. But Frank is better. "I just wanna say your hair is hot," Frank said suddenly, lifting a hand to touch it. I let him run a hand through it, and the touch drove me crazy.

 

I wanted him all the time, but I especially wanted him now. And I didn't know what Mikey wanted, but I had to go meet him. I had time. 

 

"You like my hair, huh?" I asked, sipping from my mug again. Frankie nodded and sipped from his coffee too, trailing his hand from my hair to my collar bone. "It'd be better if you were pulling it and yelling," I added, closing my eyes as Frank traced the line of my throat. 

 

"Mmm," Frank said thoughtfully, "I agree. But I'm still sore." I sighed and sipped my coffee. "But if you wanna do something _else_ , I'm down for that, too," he added. 

 

I opened my my eyes and stepped back, and then I set the half-finished coffee on the counter. "Like what?" I inquired, stepping back to Frank. He also set down his cup, and turned back to me. 

 

"Like this."

 

He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around my neck, trailing kisses up my neck and behind my ear. I moaned quietly, snaking my own hands around Frankie and down his pants.

 

What can I say? He has a really nice butt.

 

He kept kissing me, avoiding my lips. He pulled back after a few minutes, and I withdrew my hands. 

 

"Couch. My legs are tired," Frank complained childhishly, so we backed up into the couch and continued there. I finally met Frank's lips with my own, my eyes fluttering and his lip ring brushing my bottom lip. "Mm-God, Frank, you're hot," I whispered against his lips, and he opened his mouth. I was kind of on top, and he was kind of on the bottom, but I was always the dominant one.

 

I'm naturally bossy.

 

I let my tongue slip into his mouth, and he moaned softly as I explored. We had done this so many times before, but every single time was new. I knew his mouth like the back of my hand, but it's like a museum that has a different traveling exhibit every time you go.

 

"G-Gerard," he gasped, and I noticed a bulge growing against my stomach.

 

 _Aaaaand_ he had a boner. Great.

 

"You don't last very long, do you, you dirty little slut?" I hissed, and he whimpered slightly. "I-I'm sorry," he squeaked back. I pulled back and sat up, and he fell back into the couch. "Gee!" he whined, his eyes opened halfway. I crossed my arms. "Little shit. Can't last five minutes around me without getting a boner," I said harshly, and he recoiled slightly, "Shame on you. I think... I think you need to be punished."

 

Too soon? I knew that he had been with Bert, an abusive little bastard, for a long time, but he should know that I would never hurt him. Ever. 

 

A small, needy gasp escaped his mouth, and I pulled him up. It was an awkward position, but I stood up and pulled him up with me. "C'mon," I demanded, leading him by his hand to his room. He looked so eager. So beautiful.

 

"Stand here," I said, ignoring all of the clothes and comics and shit littering the bedroom floor. I shoved him against the wall, and he groaned loudly. I covered his mouth and tried to come up with something. "Hmm," I said, and then let go of him. I went over to his nightstand, opening the drawer. During Frank's tantrum, the drawer had remained untouched. In it, I found a large purple stick-like object.

 

Frank's vibrator.

 

"How'd you know about that?" Frank's ashamed voice asked from the other side of the room, and I returned to him with it in hand. "I've heard you use it before. I've been through your drawers. I know things. I think it's hot," I replied in a low voice, examining the toy in my hand. His eyes opened widely.

 

"G-Gee," he warned softly, and I smirked. I grabbed him by his hand and pushed him onto the bed, and I took off the fuzzy blanket that Frankie had put on me last night. He moaned softly as I turned him onto his back, unbuttoning his pants. I slid them off of him and tossed them aside, smiling all the while as Frank's boner peaked out through the fabric of his boxers.

 

I took off his boxers, and his length sprang free. I tapped it playfully, and Frank yelped loudly. "Shh," I said, "You're not allowed to make any noise. No moaning. No yelling. And you can't cum until I say so." Frank let out a groan of protest, but I ignored it. I moved towards his mouth and said, "Suck on it." He reluctantly took in the vibrator, even though I hadn't turned it on yet. I shoved it to the back of his throat and let him cover it in his saliva, which he found very awkward.

 

"We could just use l-lube," Frank muttered as I took the object from his mouth. It shimmered in the light of his bedroom, shiny and wet. "Nah. Natural or nothing," I said thoughtfully, and I returned to between his legs.

 

I spread them far apart, finding Frank's hole, and slowly sliding in the vibrator. He let out a pained yell, but quickly covered his mouth. I looked up at him, and then back at the toy, sliding it in until all that was left was the handle part. 

 

He was already writhing and twitching, the position uncomfortable. I was honestly surprised that I was able to fit the object inside of him without the usual preparation, but I didn't say anything as I turned it on to its lowest setting.

 

Frank struggled not to cry out or moan. He struggled not to lose himself. His hands were covering his mouth, so I removed them and pinned them down to his sides. He had to bite his lip to avoid moaning or making noises.

 

"Good boy," I whispered, leaning down to kiss him. He was twitching, but I ignored it as I turned the power up a notch. The vibrator was making noises, and I couldn't help but get a boner by seeking Frank like this. He was so fragile; so gorgeous. 

 

He screwed his eyes shut, and an involuntary moan slipped past his lips. I shook my head in mock disappointment and turned the power up even more. He was a mess; his black hair was plastered to his shiny forehead, his whole body shaking, his knuckles white. A few more moans escaped his mouth, so I cranked the power to the highest of its capabilities. 

 

Just then, Frankie screamed, "GERARD, OH GOD PLEASE!"

 

And he came. He came without me telling him to. The ropelike liquid shot into the air onto Frank's stomach, and I couldn't even be mad. It was such an amusing sight that I began laughing, and I turned off the vibrator and took it out of him.

 

He relaxed and was panting harshly, chest rising and falling. "G-God, Gee. H-hot damn, I..."

 

I kissed him softly and picked up a towel from the floor. I wasn't sure where is came from, but I wiped off Frank and the vibrator, putting it back in the nightstand. "I love you so much. So much," Frank panted.

 

"Love you too."

 

***

 

"Bye, baby! Don't forget your hoodie and your gloves! Don't freeze to death! Please come back soon!" Frank called after me, shoving a thermos cup at me and kissing me on the cheek. I chuckled and waved, winking.

 

I walked down the hall and down the stairs, out the door and to my car. Baker Street was only a few blocks away, but the neighborhood was really sketchy at night. I didn't want to take any chances.

 

My phone buzzed, and I read a text from Frank:

 

"Be safe bb! Love youuuuuu xofrnk"

 

I giggled and typed back a quick "love you too", and then I started the car engine. I drove the short distance to the cafè, and when I pulled into the small parking lot off to the side, I got out and saw Mikey waiting by the door. He was leaning against the brick wall beside the glass door, hands in his pockets.

 

"Hey," I said, my heart leaping. Mikey looked up, his glasses on the edge of his nose. He stood up and walked over to me, scratching his neck. "I–I'm sorry. Sorry about what happened yesterday. I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me. Or Alicia. I'm so sorry," he rambled, but I shrugged it off. "It's okay, it's okay," I soothed, and we decided to go inside.

 

"Okay, so... I actually brought you here to talk to you about Frank," Mikey said once we were at a table inside the cafè. My heart stopped and skipped a beat, and I swallowed loudly. "What about him?" I asked nervously. Mikes looked just as nervous.

 

He scratched his ear and leaned his head to the side. "Bert and I were talking..." Mikey started, but I cut him off. "When? Where?" I asked. He swallowed. "We bumped into each other over by the adoption center. He was carrying kinda a big load. Dunno of what, but I asked him if he needed help. He was like, 'Yeah, could you help?'. So I did. And we just started talking," he explained nervously.

 

I nodded, and he continued. "Well, he asked me if I had any siblings, and I said that you were my older brother, and his eyes got all big. I was kinda like, 'oh, you know Gee?' or something and he nodded with this look on his face. He said that Frankie was cheating on you with him, and that he felt like he needed to tell me."

 

My face starting burning like mad, tears already threatening to deceive me. Frank was what?

 

"N-no. He wouldn't cheat on me. I know him, Mikey," I said, my voice shaking and wet. Mikey's features softened, and he leaned forward. "He had pictures, Gee. Of him and Frank kissing."

 

I starting shaking. Frankie wouldn't do this to me. He wouldn't. "They dated before. Those were old. They weren't real," I searched wildly for the right words, but my heart felt like someone had driven a stake through it. What if Mikey was right?

 

"I dunno. Looked really recent. Frank isn't a good influence, Gee. You get into this bad mood when you're with him," he said softly, "He's no good for you."

 

I'm not sure what happened or how it happened, but I remembered some people pulling me off of Mikey, who had a busted lip and a blackening eye, dragging me out the door and throwing me into the night. I was sobbing and shaking and screaming, bolting for my car. I jammed the keys into the lock and unlocked the door, jerking it open and throwing myself in. I kept crying, the tears hot and fresh. They rolled down my cold, winter-kissed face and onto my lap. 

 

Crying and driving don't go hand-in-hand. They don't. But I needed to get home. Away. Away from Mikey and his lies. Mikey and his jealousy. Mikey and his shit. 

 

Away from Mikey.


	19. A Very Shitty, Poorly Written Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys. It's 11:30 at night and I really wanted to get this chapter done. I wanted to do something with drunk Gee, to really introduce you guys to what too much alcohol can do to you.
> 
> Gerard drank for a long, long time. He did drugs. He was so drunk for so long, in case you didn't know. But the fact that he became sober in 17 days is absolutely mind blowing. "Death cult emo band" my ass. Gee is a role model for me, and he became sober for the band. After they broke up, he relapsed into the booze, but stopped. For Bandit, his little daughter. That's just so inspirational to me, and I just want you all to know that I'm really proud of him, just as I know many of you are.

Frank's P.O.V.

***

While Gee was gone, I busied myself with cleaning up our room. It was still a disaster from my tantrum, but I was able to pick everything up in about thirty minutes or less. When Gerard still wasn't home by the time I finished, I turned on the television and watched whatever reality show was on.

 

Something kept nagging at the back of my head: What were Gee and Mikey talking about?

 

I had this terrible, lingering feeling that I was the current topic of conversation amongst the Way brothers, but Gee would never speak illy of me. I know it's crazy; heck, I'd known him for what? A month and a half or so? But I knew he wouldn't say anything about me. That was bad, at least.

 

During a commercial break, a quick knock came from the door. I got up and smiled, thinking that maybe the knock belonged to Gee or Ray. So when I turned the knob and opened the door, Bert was the last person I'd expect to be here.

 

"Fuhk!" I screamed, attempting to slam the door. But Bert was much taller than me; much stronger. He shoved open the door and let me fall against it when he was inside the apartment. I rubbed my head, which I had hit against the door, and turned to Bert.

 

I lashed out at him, trying to get him out of the room, but he refused to go. I grunted and cried out as he pushed me to the ground, standing over me. I hated being in this position.

 

"Well, if it isn't the little son of a bitch Frank," he mused, widening his eyes, "The sluttiest whore of them all." I kicked out at his ankle but missed, and he scoffed. "Oh, really?" he asked, "You're pathetic!" 

 

I felt hot tears brim my eyes. "GET THE FUHK OUT OF MY HOUSE," I screamed, my throat already hoarse, "I-I'LL CALL THE POLICE!" I would, if I could reach my phone. Dumbly, I had left it on my nightstand when I was cleaning the room. "I don't think you will. I just wanted to chat, Frankie, and this is no way to greet your guests," Bert said, shaking his head. He leaned down, grabbed me by the arm, and jerked me into a standing position.

 

He pulled me in a kissed me, his sloppy lips crashing into mine. I screamed and elbowed him in the gut with my free arm, and he bellowed loudly and pulled back. I screamed and panted, definitely waking up the neighbors. All I could think was: run. I had to get away from him. 

 

Bert had doubled over in pain, and I ran for my phone. "F-FRANK, PLEASE," he cried, and something made me stop. Maybe it was the pain in his voice. Maybe it was my guilty conscience. Whatever it was, I came back to check on him.

 

Stupid, stupid mistake.

 

He chuckled as I came to stand by him, trying to be a decent human being to ensure his wellbeing, and grabbed my shirt. "So gullible. So easy to deceive," Bert growled. I cursed myself for being like this, lashing out at him with all I was made of. 

 

I cried out in agony as he punched my stomach, and I fell from his grip into a crumpled form on the floor. I began crying, the tears spilling like water overflowing in a glass. 

 

"That's what you get, you filthy little whore," Bert hissed, spitting at me. With that, he spun on his foot, stood still, turned back around, kicked me in the side, and then left. 

 

He slammed the door, and I was laying on my back, side clutched and stomach aching. Crying. Like a pathetic baby. 

 

I cried for all I was worth. No one except the neighbors heard me, but I didn't think they ever cared. Me and Gee never got yelled at for all the noises we'd make. Whether it was being rowdy grown ups or getting things on to one extent or another, no one cared. 

 

What seemed like hours of crying accomplished nothing, except for the return of a hobbling Gee. He wasn't really hobbling... He was kind of limping. I knew that look. I knew that walk too well.

 

He was drunk.

 

"W-Why are you on the floor, Frankie?" he slurred, stumbling to get on my level. I tried to stop sobbing, to talk to him, but his appearance only made me cry harder. "Y-You're drunk, aren't y-you? Y-You're d-drunk and you know i-it!" I sobbed, gasping for air. Gee squinted at me and clapped his hands. "Oh, right, okay. Yeah, I am. I felt really bad, because I killed so many tiny Mikies earlier, and I was a mass murderer, so I had to. Had to. You know," Gee replied, and I finally found some strength to compose myself.

 

"Gerard," I said in a serious, tearful voice, "Why are you drunk?" He looked genuinely confused. "I-I'm not drunk!" he protested, "I'm a little stoned, but I'm not drunk!"

 

I pushed myself up and stood up, Gee standing up too. "Listen. Why. Are. You. Drunk." 

 

Gerard scratched his neck and tried to recall something. "This guy, he looked like me but taller. With glasses. He really liked unicorns... I... We went to this place with ice cream and pizza and drinks. Yeah. And giant teddy bear claw games. Those ones with the–the claws," he explained, his drunk explanation holding no humor to me, "And we drank some stuff and he brought me home and now I'm–I'm here and very horny!"

 

He reached for me, but I slapped his hand away. One good thing coming from an abusive relationship was that you knew how to deal with these things. "Was it Mikey? Mikey's your brother," I reminded him, and something like recognition crossed his face. "Ah, yeah! I thought I knew him from somewhere! I remember the day he came outta my mom's–"

 

I cursed under my breath and took Gerard's hand, leading him to the bedroom. "Oh, it's so clean in here! But why are there string boxes? Oh, guitars! Why? _Whyyyyy_?" I chose to ignore Gee's drunken questions, but I sat him down on the bed and took off his pants. He giggled all the while, saying something about his feet looking like potatoes, but he didn't protest like Bert used to when he came home like this. 

 

I took off Gee's boxers, not looking at him, and slid on some new ones. I took off his shirt and put on a black t-shirt. "I'm so tired, but the sun is up so I can't sleep," Gerard said as I pushed him down into a laying position, "Because I think God said it's illegal to sleep during the day."

 

I nodded and unfolded the fuzzy blanket, smoothing it out over Gerard, whose eyes were growing heavier and heavier. "I just really want a corn dog right now. Dipped in syrup. Those are French delicacies..."

 

I kissed his forehead and left the room, and his snores soon followed. I set out a few aspirins, a banana, and a mug with a package of hot cocoa mix-in powder on the table, with a green sticky note that read:

 

"For Gee

You were drunk, and it was bad. We'll talk about it. Love you.

xofrnk"

 

With that, I returned to the bedroom, stripping myself of everything but my boxers. I slid into bed next to the sleeping, sweaty Gerard. He reeked of beer and booze, and I sighed as I kissed the back of his neck.

 

He had gone out with _Mikey_ , of all people, and gotten drunk.


	20. So Much Better Off This Way

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

My head felt like it was splitting open.

 

I nearly screamed when I woke up, because that's what my head felt like. It felt like someone was taking a red hot stick of metal and beating it against my head. My eyes were sore and I wanted to cry because I hurt so much.

 

At first, I couldn't remember much. I forgot my name, where I was, who was laying next to me, and what was going on. Even though I was already in immense pain, memories flooded my mind, and that made the agony so much worse. 

 

Mikey. Frank. Drinking. Hurt. Betrayal.

 

I looked over my shoulder and saw Frankie, whose back was facing me. I felt a rush of sadness, because he always faced me when he slept. I got up out of bed as quietly as I could, slipping out of bed in clothes that I couldn't remember putting on. I tiptoed to the kitchen, where I saw a mug, a green sticky note, and pills.

 

In the mug was a mix in hot cocoa package, and I filled the mug with hot water from the sink, reading the note:

 

"For Gee

You were drunk, and it was bad. We'll talk about it. Love you.

xofrnk"

 

I was drunk. It was bad. Had I hurt Frank? I tried to remember what had happened, but all I really remembered was talking to Mikey about Frank, getting angry and punching him, and then driving to a bar. Mikey had followed me and bought me some drinks, and I guess I got really drunk. 

 

But it it took away all of the pain.

 

Headache pounding, stomach aching, I poured the powder into the water and stirred, and then placed it in the microwave for a few seconds.

 

Frank had cheated on me. That's what Mikey said. But I wouldn't ask Frank. I didn't think that was true. But some part of me thought that he really did cheat on me. That I wasn't good enough. That he didn't like me. I took the hot cocoa out of the microwave and took a sip of the scolding liquid, ignoring the extra pain that it added. It made me feel something other than emotional pain. And the headache. 

 

I took the Aspirins and sat down on the couch, waiting for the pills to kick in. The headache was nearly unbearable. What was even more unbearable was the fact that Frank didn't even face me when he slept. Was I really that drunk? What did I do to him?

 

A few minutes later, Frank came into the room. He didn't have on a shirt, or pants. He was only wearing his boxers, so I could see a large, purple bruise on his stomach. "H-Hey," he yawned at me, kissing the top of my head. 

 

I continued staring at his stomach. "Did I do that, F-Frank?" I asked in horror, and he looked at me quizzically. "Do what...?" And then he looked down at his stomach and saw the bruise. His eyes widened and he bolted back to the room. I stood up to follow him, but my headache pounded again. I winced and sat back down, cradling me face in one hand and holding the mug in the other.

 

"Answer me, Frank!" I yelled, "Did I do that or no?" 

 

"No, you didn't," Frank called back, and he returned with a pair of sweatpants on and a white cotton shirt on. I signed a sigh of relief, and took another sip of hot cocoa. "H-How drunk was I?" I asked finally, and Frank sat down next to me. 

 

He looked at his feet. "It was pretty bad. You said something about 'killing a lot of Mikies' or something. And you also said you got some drinks with him. And you also said something about corn dogs and syrup, but I won't get into that," Frankie explained, his voice expressing no emotion. I nodded shamefully. 

 

"I'm so sorry, Frank," I apologized, rubbing my aching temple, "He... We were... I dunno. Where's that bruise from?" Frank reddened.

 

"Bert. He came over last night," he said slowly, and I felt my face grow red, "He kissed me, and then I punched him, and went to go call you or the police or someone. And then he sounded like he was really, genuinely hurt, so I... I went to go check on him. And he had tricked me.

 

"He picked me up by my shirt and punched me, and then left. Called me a whore and some other names. Then you came home drunk. I wasn't sure what to think, so I put you in bed and..." His voice slowly trailed off, and he finally met my eyes. His were glassy, and I felt a pang of shame fill me up. After the shit he had dealt with, I had come home drunk. He had to take care of me, on top of all his pain and crap.

 

I couldn't help the tears that came. They came and came and came. They fell in thick, steady streams, pouring down my face pitifully. Frank frowned and leaned in to hug me, the sobbing mess I was. He shoved his face into the crook of my neck, hugging me tightly. "Hey, shh. It's okay. Don't cry, honey, it's okay..." he comforted, patting my back.

 

But I still didn't stop.

 

The same sadness that had filled me when I had left the cafè came back. I was a sobbing, pathetic little bastard that went out to get drunk to drown out pain. I was stupid, and I didn't know why Frank still loved me. "Gee, it's okay, really," he told me lovingly, stroking my back. I kept crying.

 

I had to tell him everything. If I had to hold it all in, then I would have an emotional breakdown. Those feelings bottled up wouldn't turn out good. 

 

"F-Frank, I'm s-so sorry. I-I went out bec-cause Mikey said that y-you were cheating on m-me with Bert and I was s-so upset and hurt and I d-didn't know what to b-believe," I rambled, stuttering, short gasps breaking up my dialogue. Frank shook his head into my neck. "Oh, Gerard," he whispered softly, "You know that I'd never cheat on you. Why would Mikey say that?"

 

I slowly but surely calmed down, occasionally hiccuping. "He said there were–there were pictures of you and Bert–you were kissing and–" I choked out, and Frank hushed me. "I wouldn't. Never. Not after what he did. Not after what I've been missing out on my entire life, Gee," he consoled, and I sighed with relief, still breathing unevenly. 

 

Part of me was angry at myself for actually believing that Frank was cheating on me, and the second half was just relieved to know that it wasn't true. 

 

"I was so scared..." I said after a few minutes of me and Frank embracing. 

 

He nodded and continued stroking my back. I had momentarily forgotten my headache, but it was fading away anyways. "I'm sorry," I added, and Frank replied, "No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you thought I had cheated on you. I'm sorry for my mistakes. I'm sorry."

 

"I love you, Frankie. But I gotta go pee."

 

Frank pulled away and let me get and to go to the bathroom. I hadn't gone for a while, and I'm not sure how I had gone so long without the use of a toilet.

 

But I never really appreciated Frank as much as I did in that moment, because I had realized that he was faithful. That he loved me. That he actually cared about me. 


	21. Bunny Ears That Seem to Deceive

Frank's P.O.V.

***

I was so glad that that was all cleared up.

 

I hated seeing Gee so upset. So ruined. So... I don't know, but it hurt me even worse than it hurt Gerard, in all honesty. I couldn't bare seeing him in any condition other than happy. That sounds really cliche, but it was true. Gee was literally my everything, and seeing him like that...

 

"You've been in that bathroom for a long time, Gee-bear, what's the hold up?" I called, and the reply was a scurrying around in the bathroom. "Umm, nothing. Just... Close your eyes!" Gerard yelled back, and I furrowed my brow. A surprise? For me?

 

I rolled my eyes but did what he said, covering my eyes with my hands. I heard the bathroom door open and Gee's footsteps got closer. "Mm... Okay. Open!" he told me, and I uncovered my eyes. Not only was there a gift bag on the coffee table, but Gerard was also in bunny ears, a painted on bunny nose and whiskers covering his face. He must've used his pencils, because the pink was really weird. He wore different colors, but pink was rare.

 

"Surprise, motherfucker!" Gee exclaimed, throwing his hands out in a "ta-da!" kind of way. He hadn't changed his close, except that he wasn't wearing any pants over his boxers. They were the best boxers, the ones that were skin tight and stuff. Hot as ever. "What's this?" I asked quizzically. Because what did bunny ears, bunny makeup, and a present have to do with anything?

 

Gee shrugged and picked up the bag, shoving it at me. "Open it, ungrateful hater." I laughed and pulled out the tissue paper, a small gift at the bottom of the bag. I pulled out a pair of rectangular papers and a rabbit stuffed animal. I read the print on the ticket out loud:

 

"The Misfits... April 2, at 8:00..." I looked at Gee, bunny ears and all, and threw myself at him in glee. We were going to see one of my favorite bands live, in concert. "Oh my Gee-sus! You're the best! How'd you get these? I love you so much, fuck man!" I cried, hugging him. He giggled and straightened his ears, hugging me back. "Let's just say people at bars to crazy things. Some guy had these, and I don't really remember what happened, but I remember licking the floor on a dare. I think that's how I got 'em, and some guy offered me a few thousand dollars for them, but I dunno..." he replied, struggling to recall the happenings of last night.

 

I laughed and kissed him, tickets in hand. "You're the best, Gerard. I fucking love you," I said happily, pulling back. His eyes were closed, his black hair a ruffled mess, all topped with a pair of dumb bunny ears. "How do those tie in?" I asked, pointing to the headpiece. He shrugged and smiled. "April? Easter? Meh, I had gotten that bunny too at the bar, and these bunny ears were..." he didn't finish, but I didn't care. I leaned in and kissed him again, put the tickets back in the bag, and took off his bunny ears. "I really wanna repay you for that..." I whispered in his ear, and he brought his hands up to my hair.

 

"Hmm?" Gee asked innocently, and I laughed. "We'll have to see, now won't we? But I have to go to work. If you're feeling any better, you could go to work too. You work first shift at the guitar shop, and I should get going to the comic shop. Lemme go get dressed," I replied, and he sighed grumpily. We walked to the room and got dressed, I in my usual work attire and Gee in his. I put on my zombie lanyard, my I.D. badge dangling from my neck. I wasn't so excited on going to work, but it would distract me for a while...

 

***

 

"Love you," Gee said softly, pecking me on the cheek. I smiled and took a sip of my coffee, the drink warming my throat. I watched Gerard walk down the sidewalk, the wind whipping around the hair that poked out from underneath his white beanie. He really was beautiful, and I was really lucky.

 

I turned on my heel and opened the door to the comic shop, another cashier behind the counter. "You're late," he drawled annoyingly, and I ignored him. He had red, curly hair, and a terrible overbite. The kid needed braces. "I said you're late," he repeated, and I looked up at him in annoyance. "Yeah, and you're fucking annoying. Better late than never. Now kindly fuck off because your shift is over," I said sternly, and his cheeks reddened.

 

I guess I scared him, because he picked up his Star Trek tote and scurried out the door. I nodded and walked behind the counter, pulling up the stool and setting my coffee on the counter. I heaved my light bag into the counter as well, pulling out a Stephen King book and my earbuds. 

 

I took my phone out of my pocket and looked on the screen. Gee's usual morning text was there:

 

"Love you! Almost the the shop, and I'll text you when I get there. Bai boo!"

 

I smiled and texted him back:

 

"Love you too, bb. In the shop, and annoying redhead kid was here. Be safe!"

 

I plugged in my buds and shoved them into my ears, shuffling through the "Everything Went Black" album by Black Flag. I turned up the music until it was a few clicks away from maximum volume, setting back and propping the book against my bag. Though my eyes were reading words, I didn't comprehend them. My mind was reciting the lyrics from "Depression", taking the lyrics to heart.

 

 _Right here, all by myself_  
_I ain't got no one else_  
 _The situation is bleeding me  
There's no relief for a person like me._

 

I looked up as the door flew open, and I quickly paused my music and ripped the buds from my ear. One of them painfully caught my earring, and I struggled to stifle a cry of pain. 

 

I looked around my bag at the person browsing the selection by the window.

 

It was Mikey.

 

"What the fuck are _you_ doing here?" I demanded angrily, sliding down from the stool and making my way towards Mikey. He looked at me, unfazed, and blinked. His glasses were at the tip of his nose, as usual.

 

"Well, just because you know me personally doesn't mean I can't come in here," he retorted, turning his attention back to the shelf of comics. I noticed a bruised left eye through his hair, like he was trying to cover it up. His lip also looked busted, and he had a few scratches here and there. "Look, Mikey, I'm not in the mood for your shit. Do you know how Gerard came home last night? Do you know how hard that was for me?" I said in a voice just above a whisper, just a few inches from Mikey.

 

He refused to look at me. "I don't know what you're talking about," he murmured uncomfortably. I laughed in a mocking way. "You gotta be kidding me. You brought him to a cafè–said something that really hurt him–and then caused him so much pain that he convinced himself that he needed alcohol to drown out that pain," I nearly screamed, "Don't you dare fucking lie to me by saying that you don't know. Because you do!" At that, Mikey threw down a comic and turned to face me, a whole head taller. "No, you listen!" he cried, his eyes glassy, "You're a bad influence! He's been so much more depressed lately, and that's your fault! You don't know him! You think you do, but you don't! You guys haven't even been together that long, Frank!

 

"He wasn't too into smoking until he met you. Sure, he took the occasional drag, but now it's a constant thing! Not only that, but you're cheating on him with Bert! He's too sweet, too naive, to believe me, but I know! I know you are!" He finished his rant with heavy breathing. I felt my eyes brim with tears, but I quickly blinked them away. I couldn't say anything except, "I'm not cheating on him. He doesn't deserve that. I–I don't deserve him. Bert and I are done. You don't know what he's done to me." I didn't address the part where he was saying I was a bad influence, because...

 

Maybe I was.

 

Maybe I was the reason Gee was in a bad mood all the time. I was too much. I couldn't handle relationships seriously. I was too childish. I couldn't...

 

"Whatever, Frank. But if you want what's best for Gerard... Maybe you should break up with him."

 

At that, Mikey spun on his heel and stomped out the door. As soon as the door closed, I sank onto my knees, sobs shaking me. Everything just collapsed. Mikey. Gerard. Bert. Hurt. Smoking. Drinking. Jobs. Time. Energy.

 

Life.

 

I just sat there, my face in my hands, tears streaming down my face. I hurt so much. I hurt so much. It hurt. It hurt so much. 

 

Hurt.

 

I was a terrible influence. I caused Gee all this pain. I was the reason for his depression and sadness. It was all me.

 

I don't know how long I stayed like that, but I was snapped out of my emotional breakdown by a soft hand on my shoulder. "Frankie?" asked a familiar voice.

 

"Ray," I choked breathlessly, sitting up and hugging him. He didn't know. He hugged me back, patting me awkwardly. He wasn't as good at hugs as Gerard, but he was warm. His hair tickled me, but I didn't laugh. Instead, I let the tears come. They stained Ray's shoulder, but he didn't protest. We just kneeled on the ground, hugging. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" Ray asked, his voice full of concern. I took a few deep, shaky breaths, and pulled back.

 

"I... Mikey says I-I'm a bad influence on G-Gee and that if I r-really loved him that I would just l-let him go," I managed, my voice wet with tears. Ray's brows furrowed, and he shook his head slowly. "No, Frank. Don't listen to him... If anything, you're the one keeping Gerard together. Without you, he would've been long gone. You keep him sane!" Ray offered, but I didn't want his pity. I didn't want him telling me what I wanted to hear.

 

Instead, I just nodded. "O-okay," I replied falsely, but Ray didn't ask. He smiled and patted my shoulder. "Do you happen to have a copy of the first episode of Masters of the Universe? I can't find my own personal copy, and I really need to read it. I still have some action figures, and though I'm a grown man, I still play dolls sometimes," Ray admitted, and I sniffed and laughed.

 

After getting Ray a copy of the comic, I bade him farewell and plugged in my earbuds. I resumed the song. 

 

 _Depression's got a hold of me_  
 _Depression! I gotta break free_  
Depression's got a hold of me  
Depression's gonna kill me.

_I ain't got no friends to call my own_  
I just sit here all alone  
There's no girls that want to touch me  
I don't need your goddamn sympathy.

 

I looked at the screen again and noticed that Gee had texted me. A lot.

 

"Heeeere! So how's work then? Redhead give you any trouble?"

 

"Dude text me what gives"

 

"Frank Anthony Iero it's been seven minutes what tf are you on text me"

 

"Frank it isn't funny are you dead"

 

"Omfg Frankie I swear if you don't text me in fifteen minutes I'm coming over there"

 

"Do you think that this is a fucking game answer me"

 

"FRANK IF YOU THINK I'M KIDDING I'M NOT I WILL COME OVER THERE AND BEAT YOUR FUCKING ASS"

 

"Frankie pleeeeeease why won't you text me?"

 

The latest one was sent a few seconds ago, so I decided to answer. 

 

"Sorry, Gee... Had to deal with a particularly tricky customer."

 

I sent the text and sighed. 

 

 _Depression's got a hold of me_  
 _Depression! I gotta break free_  
Depression's got a hold of me  
Depression's gonna kill me.

 

Wait a second. Why am I listening to this music? If I'm already upset and depressed and at my worst right now, then why should I add this to the soup? A small voice in the back of my head said, _Because you deserve it._

 

And I do.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird chapter title, I know. I'm kind of upset right now, but not as much as I was the other day. Everything is kind of falling into this sameness. Probably just hormone-induced thoughts, but maybe not.
> 
> Okay, so this chapter gets a little depressing BUT not really because it's really hard to write about a feeling that's... nothing. Depression is really a feeling of emptiness. It's waking up every day and not wanting to move because it's so emotionally painful to have to get up and put on a fake smile. It's not wanting to wake up in the morning because of what will happen later. It's the pain behind that "I'm okay" and the fake smile. Depression is emptiness. An infinite abyss. 
> 
> Also, I've started using the ACTUAL "F word" (fudge, totes) instead of fuhk, because I dunno, it looks and sounds better. Love you all! xoromanticizingchemicals


	22. I'm The Only Friend That'll Make You Cry

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

I sighed as I read Frank's reply. 

 

"God bless," I said under my breath, typing away at my keyboard:

 

"Goddammit, Frank, I nearly had a heart attack you little shit"

 

I put my phone back down, Nirvana blasting in my ears through my earbuds. I was listening to "Heart-Shaped Box", which was one of my favorites. Next up would be some David Bowie. Probably "Space Oddity" or something of the sort.

 

Someone walked into the shop, and I took out my earbuds. 

 

"What're you doing here, stranger?" I asked Ray, whose shoulders looked kind of wet. He looked at me and smiled. "Thought you'd be here. And you do know I come in here all the time, right?" he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He took off his hoodie and ran a hand through his fro. "Whatever. Whatcha need?" I asked, sitting back in my chair. 

 

He looked at me through his mane of hair. "Guitar strings," he responded, "Broke my other ones on one of my guitars. If we're gonna practice, I need that guitar. Think you could get everyone together tonight and we could practice?" My stomach dropped and I thought of Mikey. I couldn't face him. And Frankie... He couldn't face him. After what Mikey had said about him, I didn't even want Frank to _see_ Mikey. 

 

"I don't think so, Ray. Give it a rest, will you?" I replied seriously, almost in a bored voice. Ray sighed, his figure drooping slight. "I'm sorry, Gerard, it's just–" he started, "The band's a way for me to get away from my drab, boring life. It's a distraction."

 

I nodded understandingly, because the "band" was really stress-relieving for me at times, too.

 

"I get that, but... Man, my life hasn't been to great lately. Sorry, but I can't. Frank can't. See if maybe Mikey could practice, but me and Frank and busy tonight," I lied, and Ray nodded. He strolled over to the string replacement section, browsing the large selection. What was funny was that I didn't even know how to play a guitar. When someone asked me a guitar question, I would Google it and give them an educated answer. 

 

Ray was the one who should've been here. I didn't even know what he even did for a living, but we didn't ever talk about it. 

 

But I could tell that something else was bothering him. "Everything okay, Ray? You seem kinda..."

 

"Okay, okay. I came over from the comic shop," Ray replied in a defeated, exasperated voice, "Frank was on the floor crying, blaming himself for you and your depression, saying something about Mikey and letting you go because he loved you. I don't know, Gerard, and I didn't want to tell you 'cos I didn't know how you'd react, but shit, he was down." My heart stopped. It literally stopped beating for a few seconds. My anxiety kicked in.

 

"What did he say, exactly?" I asked suspiciously. Mikey. Frank. Depression. Letting me go? Ray took a deep breath before diving into a quick explanation. "I walked into the shop, and Frank was just bawling his eyes out on the floor. I didn't know what was going on, so I was kinda like, 'You okay, Frank?'. And he looked up and hugged me, and he kept crying, but I did my best to console him. And I asked what was wrong, and he said that Mikey had come in and told him that he was this terrible influence on you and that if Frank loved you, then he'd let you go...

 

"I know that I shouldn't be one to judge here, but Mikey hasn't seemed himself lately. He hasn't shaved in a while. As usual, his glasses are at the edge of his nose, but his personality..." Ray shrugged, shook his head, and picked out a pack of guitar strings.

 

I didn't move. I didn't blink. I didn't breathe. Mikey had told Frank _what_? After what had happened last night? _Really_? 

 

"I'll come back later if you need me to, Gee," Ray said softly, and I shook my head. I took the guitar strings, rang them up, and took Ray's card. I gave him the strings and the card and stared into nothingness. Ray told me good-bye, but I didn't listen.

 

Frank was in no way a bad influence. Fuck, he kept me together. He kept me sane. He kept me safe from me.

 

I looked down at my phone, Frank's texts crowding my screen.

 

"I told you, I had a tricky customer."

 

"How's the job going? Fun? Fuuuuun?"

 

"Gee pls answerrrrrr there's this girl over here and she's being really weird save meeee"

 

"She wants my number idk what to say Gee save meh"

 

"I just told her I didn't have a phone omfg what even"

 

"She sees my phone"

 

"Oh good she's gone"

 

"You there bb? You okay?"

 

I looked at the texts and nearly broke down. He was pretending like nothing had happened. Like there was no encounter between him and my brother. Like nothing happened. Then again, Frank was really hush-hush about most things. I decided to be straightforward with him:

 

"Yeah, my brother is a really tricky customer, isn't he?"

 

I sent it with a little guilt, because it seemed kinda harsh, but I didn't really feel anything. Hatred. Anger. Sadness. Depression. Anxiety. But I shoved those away and focused on the music. I had put my earbuds back in. The song switched over to, as predicted, "Space Oddity", and I closed my eyes. I thought a tear would slip, but it didn't. Nothing fell. 

 

Frank texted me back:

 

"What? What're you talking about?"

 

I scoffed and jabbed the keyboard. Angrily.

 

"Don't play dumb. Ray told me everything. Why wouldn't you tell me?"

 

I sent the text and realized how sad I was that Frank hadn't even told me. I thought that we really had that close relationship, but he didn't even tell me about this. After what happened last night, I thought it was a kind of unsaid, mutual agreement that we would be open.

 

Frank's reply came a minute later:

 

"I... Gee, I didn't want you to have to worry about it. On top of everything else. I'm already upset about it. Mikey just, I dunno, he's not himself. He's been real shady. It hurts. To be told that you should break up with someone for the better. And some part of me... Some part of me thinks that maybe I should. That I'm really having this affect on you that's making your life even worse. I don't wanna do it, Gee, but I'm starting to believe it."

 

My heart sank to my stomach, and I choked out a dry sob. He wanted to break up. I couldn't do that. I couldn't. 

 

"Frank, no, please. You don't understand. My brother is a real dickwad. Please, omg, please. Please don't listen. Don't listen to him. I need you. You keep me together. I need you. I need you so much. Frank, please don't. You're not a bad influence. You're not. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and shit, we've been together for nearly two months, but I love you more than I love myself. Losing you would be losing me. I would never forgive myself. I would never forgive myself if you left me..."

 

I sent that, and almost as an aftermath, I added: 

 

"And I know that sounds thirsty and desperate, but it's all true."

 

Yeah. I still felt the tears filling up my eyes, but the only sign of sadness that was visible was me looking like I was choking on nothing. Choking on my words, on my feelings. But on nothing.

 

I quickly called Mikey, the anger boiling up inside of me. I was hiccuping and sad and angry. I was everything. I was nothing.

 

He didn't pick up. " _Hey, you've reached Mikey Way. Leave a message at the beep_." 

 

 _Oh, I'll leave a fucking message alright_ , I thought fiercely, clearing my throat.

 

"Listen here you dipshit," I nearly yelled, "You better stay away from Frank. You better stay away from him. Pick on me all you want, but lay a finger or a slur of degrading words again and I'll track you down and knock you out. I don't care if you're my brother. I don't care! You know what, if I even hear of anything of the sort that you just did to him again, I'm gonna come for you. As of right now, I'm cutting off connection with you. Don't even think about trying this phone or Frank's, because... Fuck you very much, Mikey!"

 

I hung up and let out an angry grunt. Frankie had texted back, so I read that.

 

"Please don't lie. We'll talk later. But I have break in like 15 so we could meet up at the usual spot. And we'll talk about it."

 

I sighed out of frustration. I wasn't lying. I wasn't. 

 

"I'm not lying, bastard. And fine. See you in 15-ish"

 

I set down the phone and resumed my music. The only escape at the moment was music, and I still couldn't distract myself from Frank and Mikey.

 

What would it take to just have a perfect, fairytale relationship and a brother who cared? 


	23. Schedules are a Nuisance, and So Are Rumors

Frank's P.O.V.

***

The air froze my exposed face, and I tried to cover it with my hood. That didn't work. I puffed out some air, watching the cloud of cold air dance in front of me. All I could think about was getting to Gee and getting to the bottom of this whole situation.

 

Fuck Ray for telling Gerard. I didn't tell him to _not_  tell Gee, but that was personal stuff. This is why I can't cry around people.

 

"Move!"

 

"Make way."

 

"I'm in a hurry!"

 

These cries were all those of afternoon commuters, dressed in their suits and work attire, scurrying past me. It seemed like I was walking against the crowd. I continued the rough journey until I got to the local coffee shop, where Gee and I met for lunch every day. Sure enough, he was sitting at our usual table by the window inside of the shop, his beanie around his ears and hair.

 

As usual, he was adorable.

 

I opened the glass door and walked into the coffee place, the cashier looking up. She was a shorter lady, who looked vaguely irritated. I didn't know why, but I say across from Gerard. 

 

"Hey," I offered softly.

 

"Hey."

 

I sighed and set down my bag. "Look, Gee," I said, "I'm sorry. It's just... You know. You know more than anyone that when someone insults you like that, it makes a lot of thoughts just go through your head. And I don't know what I was thinking. I need you even more than you need me, if you believe that." Honestly, I haven't a clue what had gotten into me. I was in a bad mood from Mikey, the music really speaking to me, terrible thoughts ripping me apart.

 

This sounds so cliche. It's cheesy.

 

"It's fine. I understand. I just thought..." Gee said in a shaky voice, as though his emotions would betray him at any moment. He didn't finish, but drew a sharp breath. "You thought what?" I inquired, reaching for Gee's gloved hand that was lying on the table. He rubbed his eye with his free hand. "I just thought that after what happened last night, we'd be more open with each other, y'know? That really hurt that you didn't even bother to tell me about Mikey. You said a 'tricky customer', and you get those all the time, but Mikey? I don't know why you couldn't have told me yourself," he finished unsteadily, not looking at me.

 

My heart sank, and I felt my throat tighten and my tongue go dry. "I... I'm so sorry, Gerard. I just–fuck, I don't know. I didn't want you to have to go through more than you were already dealing with. I mean, with all that's going on, I didn't want you to have to worry about Mikey more than you were. And really, if I'm a bad influence, let me know. I don't want to hurt you. I don't," I explained, not really knowing what to say. Mikey had already informed me of my inability to be a proper human being, and I didn't want Gee to have to worry about my feelings on top of his own, I guess.

 

He nodded and finally looked up at me. "Okay. But from now on, we have to be _completely_ honest with each other. No lies. No leaving out bits and pieces. 'Kay?" Gerard asked quietly, and I nodded. He smiled and got up, drifting away from my hand towards the cash register. My eyes followed him as he walked, and as he ordered our regular coffees and small sandwich things.

 

Some part of me was stunned at how quickly Gee was able to forgive and forget, and another part was relieved that he had resolved a big problem so fast. I was really, really lucky. 

 

The lady took Gerard's card and swiped it on her computer, gave it back to him, and began to make our coffees. He put his credit card back into his wallet and shoved the wallet into the pocket of his skinny jeans. I admired those jeans. Any jeans on Gerard, actually. 

 

Gee was great with clothes or without clothes.

 

"So, how's work so far then?" he asked when he returned, sitting back down. I shrugged. "Meh. Besides the whole Mikey thing and Ray thing, it was boring. But there was this girl that came in and started flirting with me, and I was trying to act unattractive. But she asked for my phone number, and my phone is literally in my hand, and I shoved it into my lap and said that I didn't have a phone. 

 

"Then she scoffed and left, and I was glad she did. She was an ugly motherfucker anyways," I told Gerard, recalling the curly blonde hair, too tight jeans, and the twenty pounds of makeup applied to the lady's face. Gee laughed and shook his head. "Well, it's impossible for you to be unattractive. You're always adorable. But really? Was she that bad? Not many people here are attractive, so I'm not surprised," he said, and then returned to the cashier to get the coffees and small paper bags.

 

He handed me my coffee and one of the bags, and I took a sip of the coffee to warm me up. Gee took a few swigs of his own, and then a bite of his sandwich. "What about you? Anything new and exciting?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. "No. Nothing is ever new or exciting there. The guitar shop's boring as fuck," Gerard retorted, taking another bite of the steaming sandwich. I giggled and took a bite of my own sandwich, the food burning the roof of my mouth.

 

I breathed into the air, trying to cool down the food in my mouth, and we sat in silence, eating the food quickly, but gratefully. 

 

"What shift do you have next?" Gerard asked, and I thought for a few moments, chewing on a piece of bread. "I think I'm gonna head over to the shelter, if that'll work," I decided. Gee sighed. "I wanna work at the comic shop with you!" he whined, and I grimaced. "I don't wanna go back there. Plus, Sweet Pea misses me!"

 

Gee frowned and crossed his arms. "Fine! But when your favorite sweater is covered in dog and cat hair again, don't come whining to me!" he warned, and I chuckled. "The work day's half way done, baby, and we can hang out when we're done," I said, and Gee looked up. His hazel eyes were lined with lust, and he tilted his head slightly in one of his "seductive" poses. "Hang out?" he asked, and I nodded. He smirked and took a sip of coffee, and then stood up. 

 

"Okay. I'll be a little late tonight, so I'll be back around... I dunno. Love you though," he said, bending down to kiss me. I kissed him, savoring the split second that filled me with the most delightful warmth in the world, and stood up. Coffee in hand, I followed Gerard out of the coffee shop, and we said our good-bye's, kissed again, and headed our separate ways. I walked down the sidewalk towards the animal shelter, and Gee to the comic shop. Our schedules were usually busy and confused, and today was no exception.

 

I made it to the shelter and smiled at the person currently working the shift, which happened to be Bob. "Thought you were at the bakery," I said, setting down my bag on the desk. He rolled his eyes. "Nope. I don't even know why I work there. Just for the money. And the free food. Well, reduced price food," he replied, and then walked past me and out the door. I looked around at the cages lining the walls. Cats meowed shrilly, and a few dogs yelped and barked.

 

I approached my favorite dog Sweet Pea's kennel, poking my finger through one of the holes. He came up to me and licked my finger eagerly, wagging his tail. "Hey, Sweet Pea, how's my baby? Huh? How're you, Sweetie Pea-dy?" I cooed, and he stuck out his tongue again.

 

I loved the shelter and its stentch. I loved the animals. I loved this job. Do what makes you happy. Love what you do, do what you love, right?

 

Even if this was a volunteer job, I still loved it. Animals were the best. And Gee is also classified as an animal, if you were wondering.


	24. Another Shift, Another Encounter with Bert

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

"I don't wanna be here," I said to myself, plopping down onto the stool behind the counter of the comic shop. I talked to myself on a regular basis, but I wasn't crazy...

 

I reached into one of the drawers of the counter, where I kept my favorite comics. I took out the copy on the top and began to read it, not bothering to actually comprehend the comic. "I wanna be with Frank. I love Frank. I wanna bang Frank tonight. Should I? I should," I mused once again to no one. Yes, I had already made the decision to do _it_ with Frank, and I was going to go to the adult store on my way home. That's why I'd be late.

 

I smirked as I came up with all of the things that I'd do to Frank later on. Handcuffs, blindfolds, the whole nine yards. Oh yeah. It'd be great. I glanced at my phone, and, to my delight, Frank had texted me.

 

"Sweet Pea says hai!"

 

Upon unlocking my phone, he had also sent a picture of him and Sweet Pea (his favorite shelter dog). I smiled and texted him back:

 

"Awwwww you're both so cute! Sorry, but you know we can't have a dog in the apartment. Maybe if we get real jobs, we can get an actual house and a dog."

 

I set the phone back down and went back to planning the night. 

 

I admired the lines the artist of the comic had used, though I wasn't sure what I was reading (as many of the comics I only liked because of the artwork). I traced the confident outline of the main character's head, trying to etch the style into my memory so that I could use it later on. My phone buzzed, and I checked the text:

 

"Yeah I wish we could keep Sweet Pea :( I'm running out of excuses for people to not adopt him just so that I can play with him all the time. I think people are starting to not believe that he had been in a nuclear power plant when we found him..."

 

I giggled and recalled the many lies that Frankie told adopters about Sweet Pea. He told one couple that he had belonged to a man who was murdered, and was there when it happened. Sweet Pea had torn out the murderer's heart, or something of the sort. Another one was that Sweet Pea got this thing on the sixth of every month where his eyes got all black and he began to smell terribly. The things Frank did to keep Sweet Pea were hilarious and extensive.

 

"Yeah... And he's not an alien dog, either. Don't tell people that. Please don't hurt yourself playing with the animals! I don't want those bites from animals other than myself all over your arms again ;)"

 

I sent the text with a satisfied nod, impressed by my own smoothness. The glass door of the shop opened, and a man walked into the store. "Good afternoon, are you looking for something in particular?" I asked routinely, putting down my own comic. The figure was hooded, so he drew his hood back to reveal himself. 

 

"B-Bert?" I squeaked, coughing to mask the embarrassing sound I had just made. His hair was long and greasy, his eyes wild and bloodshot. "Gerard, is it?" he asked, and I regained my composure. "You keep your hands off of Frank, bastard. I'll report you to the police if you try it again..." I warned uncertainly.

 

He merely chuckled, his laugh raspy. "Try me. But I won't. I've got my eyes on someone else," Bert said smoothly, walking towards the counter. Instinctively, I leaned back, trying to get away from the man. "That's great. But could you... You know... Maybe... Leave or get a comic or something?" I suggested helplessly, but he leaned against the counter. 

 

"Has _Frank_ ever told you what a gorgeous face you have, Gerard?" Bert tested slyly, and my throat dried. "Yes. He tells me all the time. F-fuck off!" I said loudly, standing up from the stool before I fell backwards. Bert furrowed his brows. "Gerard! I was just trying to express my attraction towards you... Maybe I could make this up to you," he said softly, his eyes catching the light. I screwed my face into a disgusted glare and backed into a shelf of comics behind the counter. "Yes, you could. By getting the fuck away from me before I call the cops!" I yelled, and Bert flinched.

 

"I like 'em fiery. Okay, _Gerard_. But if you ever want a good time..." he drawled, taking a small piece of paper from his pocket and placing it on the counter. I scowled at it, and he winked, then left. I approached the paper and considered keeping it for a few moments, but then decided against it.

 

Why would I cheat on Frank? He had done nothing of the sort to me, and he didn't deserve that. 

 

I picked up the paper and ripped it to shreds, placing the remains in the small trash can underneath the counter. Leave it to Bert to hit on random guys.

 

I checked my phone and saw that Frank had texted back:

 

"How are you so hot even over text? And I won't. The animals love me too much. But then again, how could they not?"

 

Picking up the phone, I decided to just call Frankie. The desire to hear him talk was powerful, and I wanted to hear his voice anyways. I pressed the phone icon by his contact name and held the phone up to my ear, leaning on the counter and twisting a piece of my black hair around my index finger.

 

He picked up after two rings. 

 

"Hey baby," Frank said into the phone, the sound of cats and dogs mewing and barking in the background. "Hey!" I replied, picking up my comic. "You okay? You sound..." he said, but was interrupted by a sharp bark.

 

"Ack! Peanut, no!" I heard him scold. I giggled and shook my head. "You and your dogs, I swear. But I called you for two reasons," I responded, running my free hand through my hair. Frank shifted on the other end, and he coughed quietly. "And those are...?"

 

I thought of a way to word what had happened. "Well, firstly, I called because I miss you a lot," I said, and he scoffed at that, "And secondly, because Bert was here."

 

I felt an awkward silence hang above me, clouding the shop, choking me. And I'm pretty sure that Frank, on the other end, had stopped breathing for a few seconds. After a few moments, Frank asked, "What'ya mean, he was there?" I scratched my neck and sighed. "He came in and started flirting with me, and I basically told him to fuck off, and then he gave me a piece of paper with his number on it, I'm guessing," I explained, "And so I tore it up. Just thought I'd let you know." I decided to leave out the part about calling Bert up if I needed a "good time", because that was pretty much included in the whole paper thing. 

 

I could literally hear Frank thinking, thinking what to say, how to respond. "Well," he responded slowly, unsteadily, "I don't really know what to say other than are you okay? Like, did he hurt you in any way?" I made an "nn-nn" sound and shook my head, and Frank let out a sigh of relief. "Good. I'm glad you're safe. Just let me know if you need anything–" he was once again cut off by a bark, followed by a growl and the distant sound of someone opening a door. 

 

"Gotta go, boo. Love you, and see you when we get home! Byes!" Frank hurried, and then hung up. I smiled and put down the phone, an odd feeling of reassurance filling me up. It'd be okay. That's kind of that was going through my mind.

 

It'd be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys make me so happy! I love getting your feedback! It really keeps me motivated. Comment what you think, please! It helps so much. Love you, lovely little Killjoys!  
> xoromanticizingchemicals


	25. Gee Moves In... Officially

Frank's P.O.V.

***

Work had been work.

 

Sweet Pea was a little shit, for the norm, as were the rest of the animals in the shelter. And I had gotten two customers, one of them being a couple that wanted to adopt Sweet Pea. I told them that she hadn't gotten all her shots yet, so she wasn't the safest choice. They settled for Beanie, a golden retriever puppy that barked all the time.

 

After I had left the shelter, which was around 3:00, I had headed to the guitar shop, where I'd spend two, two and a half hours working. I had two thirty minute lessons to instruct as well over there, so I did that and sent off the two students knowing their basic chords. Both were about the same age. 

 

Then I walked home, Gerard's presence absent. He had told me that he'd be later than usual, but I still missed him. I still wanted him to be here with me. I entered the apartment complex, and the lady behind the desk greeted me.

 

"Hey, how are you?" I replied, not waiting around for the answer. I ascended the steps to my floor, and nearly toppled backwards when I ran full force into someone coming down the steps. The person was struggling with a huge box, and they almost dropped it. "Jesus! Mind where you're going! I nearly dropped the box, you–" But he stopped, and peered over the large box at me.

 

It was no one other than Mikey Way, Gerard's brother. 

 

"Hey, Mikes," I spat bitterly, crossing my arms. One of the veins in his neck pulsed slightly, but I didn't care. "Frank," he replied, "Oh, I left Gee's boxes outside your room. You guys weren't home, and he wouldn't answer any of my texts, so I just left them there. See you around... Or not." With that, he sidestepped me and continued down the steps. I scoffed and continued up the steps, finally making it to my floor.

 

Once there, I peered at my door and saw four giant boxes at the foot of it. I sighed angrily, and then my mind wandered to why Mikey had left the boxes. Then it occurred to me that maybe Mikey was moving out. And that meant that Gee would be staying with me permanently...

 

My heart suddenly leapt with joy, a newfound spring in my step. I quickly unlocked the door and threw it open, heaving the boxes into the room. I didn't complain, and I didn't grunt. I was just happy that Gee would be moving in. 

 

I shut the door behind me, and decided that I should make room for Gerard's belongings. I quickly whipped out my phone and opened the messages between Gee and I. 

 

"Why didn't you tell me you were moving in?!"

 

I set down the phone on the counter and dragged the boxes to my room, one by one. I opened up one with Mikey's untidy scrawl of "CLOTHES" on it, and began stacking the unfolded clothes on my bed. Once the box was empty, I set off hanging up shirts in my closet and folding pants and underwear. The work was easy, and it took only ten minutes to get Gee's wardrobe into my closet and drawers. 

 

I heard the distant buzzing of my phone and went to go see Gerard's text. 

 

"I'm what?"

 

I screwed up my face in confusion, and then recalled Mikey saying that he had texted Gerard. 

 

"Mikey said he texted you"

 

Maybe he hadn't. He was probably lying. Mikey was like that.

 

I set the phone back down and returned to my room, opening another box. Two of the four boxes were dedicated to Gee's huge collection of comics.

 

And when I say huge, I mean huge.

 

He had twice as many as I did, and I had a lot. He probably had five hundred or something shoved into the boxes, because there were more than I could count easily. The phone buzzed again, so I went to go answer Gee.

 

"He didn't tell me anything. I'm moving in?"

 

I felt only slightly irritated, because I was too happy that Gee was officially moving in. It wasn't like he didn't already live here, but it was official now. Mikey had kicked him out, and judging by the fact that Mikey was carrying boxes downstairs, Mikey was leaving the complex. I was just so excited.

 

"Yesssss! It's official now!"

 

I returned to the boxes and tried to decide what to do with the comics. Mine were already toppling over in boxes and shit, so I came to a conclusion that I should probably invest in a bookcase. I already had one in the living room by the television, which was full of my own comics, but I obviously needed another one. I shoved the two comic-filled boxes into the closet, pushing the boxes as far into the corner as I could. The last box was a mixture of mugs and shoes.

 

When people say that you can never have too many shoes, I think Gee took that to heart. He probably had twenty pairs of shoes, half of them looking way too small to even fit on his feet. I stacked them nicely at the bottom of the closet, counting out the combat boots, Converse shoes, and the one pair of new running shoes that he had probably never even worn.

 

I stood back and admired the stuffed, overflowing closet. I nodded and picked up the box with the coffee mugs in it, the cups clinking and clanking loudly as they slid around. I carried it to the kitchen and set it on the floor, my phone buzzing again.

 

"Did he even ask you, though?"

 

I frowned slightly. Wasn't he excited? Wasn't he happy that he was moving in for reals? 

 

"No, but it's not like you don't already live here... It's really no big deal! I'm just so happy you are!"

 

I began to think that maybe Gee didn't want to live with me, so, to distract myself, I began putting away the coffee mugs. He owned about seven, each of them a different style, size, and color. One of them was the cup I had gotten for him when I was at the Pet Expo in Chicago, and the others were older and well-used. 

 

The phone buzzed again when I finished, and the perfect timing pleased me.

 

"I really don't want it to be too much, but you're right... I'm so excited, too! This is a huge step, ya know"

 

I smiled and began texting back. So he was happy.

 

"I know! This relationship is moving so fast. It's felt like forever though, but I feel like I met you just yesterday..."

 

It was true. I don't know how I had survived without Gee for my whole life, up until... How long has we been dating? I don't know, but I loved him so much.

 

I herded the cardboard boxes into the living room, but when I picked one up, I realized that I had forgotten some stuff. At the bottom of the "CLOTHES" box, there were a few things.

 

There were a few Polaroids, a couple of loose drawing pencils, some drawings, a small writing notebook, a couple of band posters, and, my favorite thing in the box, a vibrator. I instantly thought of Mikey having to put it in the box, and I laughed aloud at the notion of Mikey's disgusted face as he threw it into the box. He had probably used tongs. 

 

I picked up my phone and opened the camera app, holding up the vibrator and pursing my lips stupidly. It was for Gee, anyways. I took a picture and sent it to Gee, saying, "Look what I fooooound!"

 

He had also texted me back from earlier:

 

"Me too. Idek how I lasted so long with out Frankie in my life. I'll be home in 10 minutes, so see you later bb!"

 

I smiled and walked to my room, putting Gee's blue vibrator next to my purple one in the nightstand. I took the other stuff at the bottom of the box and shoved it in my room. I returned to the kitchen, grabbed a box cutter, and began breaking down the boxes.

 

After getting the boxes down into a smaller size, I stacked them up and looked at the clock on my phone. Gee had texted back, too.

 

"Omg how the fuck did you get that Jesus now Mikey knows shit ahhhhh put it away pretend you didn't see it"

 

I giggled and put the phone back down, and at that moment, I heard a small knock at the door. 

 

Jumping to my feet, I leapt towards the door and opened it, revealing Gerard's flushed face. He smirked and kissed me, shoving past me to get into the room. He had a very cold air about him, because he had been outside. I glanced at the bags that he was holding; both were black, so I couldn't see through them. 

 

"What're those?" I asked curiously, and he blocked my view purposefully. "Fuck off, close your eyes, you're not allowed to look," Gee spewed, rushing the bags to the bathroom. He locked the door and closed it, but he wasn't in there. He grabbed the "key" from the top of the door frame and shoved it into his pocket. 

 

"Don't get any ideas. You'll find out soon enough," he warned, and then he plopped down onto the couch. I smiled and sat down next to him, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I nuzzled into him, kissing his neck. "How was work?" I asked softly, and he kissed the top of my head. "Boring as usual. Glad it's over for today..." Gee said tiredly. We sat like that for a few minutes, Gerard holding me and me nuzzling him like a puppy does its mother. 

 

"This is boring," I whined, and then I pushed him over so that he was laying sideways on the couch. He shifted so that instead he was laying on his back, and I put myself on his stomach. "Did you gain twenty pounds?" Gee asked, struggling to breathe, and I laughed. "No, I didn't! I've always been this light," I replied, leaning towards his face. He pushed his neck up and brushed his lips against mine, and I pushed myself into it.

 

He pulled my shirt over my head, and I'm not really sure why, and threw it across the room. I was over Gee with my elbows on his chest, my hands tangled in his black hair. I loved his hair, whatever color it may be.

 

The moment I opened my mouth slightly to breathe, Gerard's tongue was filling me up. I moaned as his tongue searched my mouth, and he brought his hands up to my back, tracing small circles along my spine. "You're the best kisser," I mumbled against his mouth, but it came out more as "Nur de dest kisher".

 

He continued his search, our teeth touching momentarily, but Gee was a thoughtful kisser. It wasn't ever sloppy. Instead, he planned out everything in advance, and I admired him for that.

 

One of his hands trailed down to my pants, and the other up to my hair. After running his hand through my hair, he tried to pull down the waistband of my pants with one hand. I had to shift to allow the movement, but it worked.

 

I pulled back and we both gasped for breath. "You're always so hot, Frankie," Gee whispered breathlessly, propping himself up on his elbows. I winked and sat back, falling off of the couch. I somehow managed to catch myself. "Are you hungry?" I asked Gerard, walking towards the kitchen.

 

He shook his head and stood up, and then walked to the bathroom. He took the small key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock, the knob clicking. I rolled my eyes and opened the cabinet with the cereal boxes in it. There were four opened boxes, all of the halfway finished. I took out a bowl and the box of Cookie Crisps or whatever they're called, pouring myself a generous amount.

 

I heard Gee turn off the bathroom light and pad towards the bedroom, the rustling of the bags following him. I was lactose intolerant, so I couldn't drink any milk with my cereal. Instead, I ate the small cookies from the bowl like chips from a bag. 

 

"What're you doing with those bags?" I asked through a mouthful of cereal, and I heard something fall in the bedroom. " _Shit_ ," was the dialogue that followed. I shook my head at Gerard and set down the bowl of cereal, quietly walking on my toes towards the room. I peeped in, and Gee was picking something up off of the floor. He heard me, though, and whipped around. "You ruined the surprise!" he pouted, trying to cover up whatever he had laid on the bed. 

 

I crossed my arms and shifted my weight onto one foot. "What's the plan, Gee?" I asked, trying to mask my excitement with a touch of boredom in my voice. He smirked mischievously, crossing his arms as well. 

 

"You'll have to see. But it'll be fun."


	26. The Game You Play is Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT SEX SEX ALERT. Now ya know. This is all fiction guys! Hugs! Enjoy this game of Frerard *winky face emoji*
> 
> Gerard: more like emo Gee
> 
> So right you are, Gee 
> 
> xoromantizingchemicals

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

I liked to think of myself as a Sex God or something. I mean, I had barely even done it, but teenage me had watched a healthy amount of porn over the years, and I still continued to watch it up until me and Frank dating.

 

So I had the knowledge.

 

Applying that knowledge was a whole other ball park, though. Things were awkward, smelly, sweaty, slippery, just... In other words, porn is completely unrealistic and acted out. But Frank made things easy; he was compliant, and he would do whatever I told him to do.

 

"Geebear, for real, what are you trying to imply here?" asked Frank, barely hiding his excitement. I chuckled, sexily, I hope, and sat down on the bed. "Well, if you're  _up_ for it..." I started, reaching for the handcuffs I had bought at the adult store.

 

The adult store was really weird. There was so much to choose from, and the cashier was a younger girl with the body of a model. She was payed to make you pay for more. She'd suggest that a pretty bunny vibrator would look nice shoved up your ass, or a choker would definitely enhance the experience. Stuff like that. 

 

"F-Fuck," Frank gasped, his eyes wide with anticipation. I smirked and winked, putting the cuffs on the nightstand. "Let's see what else I have, shall we?" I continued, pulling out this thing called a cock ring. Supposedly, it'd hold back an orgasm. The cum part, at least. Frank obviously knew what it was, because he kind of whimpered with need. He was a mess already.

 

I had only gotten a few things, because I was broke enough as it was, but what I had gotten would suffice: the cock ring, the handcuffs, and the blindfold.

 

"Are we gonna use those?" Frank asked stupidly, longingly. I smiled and nodded slightly, and he kind of went "oh Gee". I stood up and tried to decide how I wanted to start things off. "Mm..." I mused thoughtfully, and Frank leaned against the door frame, "What should we start with?" Frank glanced at my little toys, his eyes lingering on the handcuffs.

 

Of course he would want to use those.

 

I nodded and put the cock ring on the nightstand, too, along with the blindfold. "Okay then," I said, walking towards Frankie. His breath hitched, and he threw himself at me desperately. I shoved him back, and he nearly fell to the ground. Instead, I caught him, turning him around and shoving him against the wall between the bed and the nightstand. 

 

"God, Gee," he gasped, closing his eyes. I snickered and ran my finger along his jawline. "What's the matter, Frank?" I hissed, "Scared? Excited? What?" Frank swallowed hard, and then said, "Excited. Desperate. I need you so bad..." I cut him off by crashing my lips into his, pressing him against the wall harder. He let out a gasp of pain, but I ignored him. He could deal with it for a few seconds. 

 

I broke away, and Frank slumped against the wall as I let go of him. I pulled him up by his hand, and we traded places. "You know what you're gonna do for me, Frankie?" I whispered, glowering at him. He swallowed again. "You're gonna give me a blow job like the slut you are. You're a slut, aren't you? Say it, you slut." Frank nodded. "I'm a slut. I'm your slut, Gee," he said breathily, clambering to his knees. 

 

As though his life depended on it, Frank fumbled with the clasp on my belt, and he quickly slid the belt out of the loops. My thing about blowjobs were that they were stress-relieving. Only ones from Frank, but still... A great blowjob was like the best cup of coffee. Frank knew how to suck me off, as he had done it many times before. 

 

He pulled down my pants to my ankles, and I tangled my hands into his hair. "Go on, slut, suck," I demanded, almost desperately. Frankie nodded and pulled down my boxers as well, my length limp but hardening before Frank's needy glare. He ran his hands up and down the sides of it, which definitely turned me on, and my boner was soon there on display.

 

Frank took a breath and began working at the tip, his tongue gliding up and down the slit. What I liked about Frank was that even if we did the same thing over and over again, it was still different. One time maybe he'd start at the base, another at the sides, another under the cap; it was always different. I threw my head back and moaned softly, and Frank ran his hands down my legs. He began taking me into his mouth, and I had worked him so that he was able to take me in all the way quickly. He was much more deep throated. 

 

He began bobbing his head, taking in my length further and further each time. Sometimes he would blow some air around it, and others he'd moan loudly to make those vibrations that made me go crazy. I cried out in pleasure as I was all the way in his mouth, and he had begun using these blow-moan tactics on me.

 

My orgasm was already building up, but I pushed Frank back before I could cum. "You did so well, Frankie," I told him breathlessly, patting his head. He looked up at me desperately. I stood him up and kissed him, his lips still wet. "Now," I whispered, putting my thumb behind his ear and rubbing small lines, "I'm gonna handcuff you to the bed frame, and do you wanna use the blindfold, Frank?" He nodded hastily, his eyes wide. I smirked and nodded, grabbing the blindfold.

 

"Of course you do, you slutty whore," I growled, pushing Frank back up against the wall. He winced, but didn't move. "You're a whore. You're a slutty whore. Aren't you? Say it," I said again, and Frank complied. "I'm a whore. A slutty whore. Y-Your slutty whore, Gerard," he replied hoarsely, his voice wet and tinged with desire. I nodded and kissed his jaw beneath his ear. "That's right, you are," I said, and then I held the blindfold to his face, "No peeking, mmkay?" 

 

Frankie nodded and closed his eyes, and I turned him around so that I could tie the blindfold. It wasn't too hard to tie, but it was pretty big on Frank's smallish head. "Good," I admired as I turned him back around, so that he was facing me. Then, I grabbed the handcuffs and made sure that I knew where the key was. "Gonna chain you up now," I warned, and pulled Frank away from the wall so that I could get the handcuffs on. I then clipped them to the bed frame, so that Frank's arms were above his head.

 

He looked so beautiful like that. Chained up, so vulnerable, so pliable. I smiled as I kneeled down, ignoring the pants that I had decided to kick off so that I didn't trip, and undid the clasp on Frank's belt. Unlike when he did it, I unbuckled the belt agonizingly slow, and he knew I was. "Fuck, Gee, h-hurry up," he begged, but I didn't take orders from anyone. "Excuse me?" I asked harshly, and Frank whimpered, "Don't you dare order me around. Try that again and see what happens!"

 

I looked back at his pants, where a bulge was steadily growing. I pulled the belt off, and slid down the jeans, as well as his boxers. His length sprang free, and he took a deep breath. I took a breath, too, and began the process of the "Gee Blowie". I changed it up every time, but something about my style was the same. My mouth produces a lot of saliva at times, so that's one thing. Another is that I move evenly up and down, not in uneven rhythms. 

 

I liked starting with the cap, so I ran my tongue under Frank's lid, enjoying the slight tinge of whatever was under there. He threw his head back just like I had when he had given me my blowjob, and he was obviously enjoying himself. I moved back up to the slit, running my tongue along it, and then working at the rest. I took him in at even intervals, about an inch or so each bob. His knees were shaky, his black hair plastered to his shiny forehead.

 

I loved seeing him like this. 

 

I bit at his length playfully, and he moaned out of pain and pleasure. I thought he'd cum right then and there, but I knew that he could last longer than that. I pulled back and sat back, too, admiring the glistening layer of saliva on Frank's member.

 

He couldn't see me. He couldn't touch me. "So, dirty little slut, what're we gonna do next?" I teased, lifting Frank's chin with my finger. The only reason he was still standing was because of the handcuffs, because if he wasn't strapped like that, he'd have been on the floor already. "F-Fuck me," he pleaded desperately, his mouth slightly opened. I smirked and brought my hand back to my side. "That's an idea. How should I do it? Fast? Slow? Wet? Dry? You tell me," I whispered, and he shivered.

 

After a few moments of consideration, Frank replied, "However you want. I live to make you happy. I live to s-serve you." I smiled at him and kissed his forehead, which was sticky with sweat. "Okay," I said softly, removing Frank's blindfold, "But I want you to see me when I fuck that tight little ass of yours." 

 

He whimpered loudly, not bothering to mask the desperate sound. I used the key to unlock the cuffs, and Frank fell to his knees, rubbing his wrists. They were red from supporting his whole body weight. "You'll get used to that," I told him, and he looked up at me with those big, hazel eyes. I pulled him up roughly, pushing him onto the bed. I then coaxed his mouth open, not bothering to ask him to suck my hand. Instead, I moved my own fingers around his mouth, which was something I hadn't ever done before. He seemed to like it, though.

 

And that's all that mattered.

 

I took my hand from his mouth, my fingers glistening with spit. "So beautiful, Frank. Let's see how pretty you'll be with a cock inside of you, shall we?" I teased lightly, and I pushed him into his back. This was a new position that I had wanted to try for a while. I suddenly remembered the cock ring, and I smirked evilly as I grabbed it from the nightstand. "Almost forgot about _this_ ," I said slyly, and I slipped the ring onto his length. He whimpered in protest, but I ignored him.

 

I then began prepping him, though he probably wouldn't need much. We had done this a few times since our first time (even if I didn't tell _you_ about it), and each time, he had gotten more used to it. He grimaced as I worked a digit into his hole, stretching him out a bit. After a few seconds, I added another finger, scissoring my fingers inside of him. This wasn't too much of a stretch, but I knew it wasn't comfortable. I added the last finger and spread out my digits, which was the real squeeze. Frank let out a small cry of pain, but didn't object. Instead, he simply bucked out at nothing, closing his eyes and throwing his head back further into the mattress. 

 

"Hey," I reprimanded, "Open your eyes. I thought I told you that I wanted to see you watch me fuck you." Frank opened his eyes with a small moan, and I nodded. I took my fingers out of him, leaned in, licked the rim of his hole, and then lined myself up with him. I had to throw his legs over my shoulders slightly, so the positioning as awkward. But it would work. I pressed my member against his hole, a small realization of my shirt still being on coming to me, but I didn't care. He moaned and gripped the bed, and I pressed into him.

 

My cap was barely in his hole when he began moaning loudly; he was a mess. I pulled out, only to push in further. I quickened my pace, which was more painful than pleasurable for Frankie, shoving my cock up his ass further and further. "G-GEE. PLEASE, PLEASE! H-HARDER, F-FASTER, D-DAMMIT!" he cried, his words filled with lust and need. I did as he asked, only because it felt good for me, too. He couldn't cum, but I could. But I wouldn't cum into him. He'd have to jack me off for that.

 

I pounded into his ass, admiring the moaning, screaming, crying mess sprawled out before me. I was holding his hips, his legs over my shoulders. It must've been painful with the ring on, not being able to cum. Obviously he was trying to ride out an orgasm that wouldn't come until the ring was taken off. I knew that I kept hitting his prostate, because he would scream with that pleasure and pain all together the same way each time. 

 

With th a final pound, I pulled out, my own orgasm almost climaxing. "J-Jack me off, b-bitch," I panted, pushing Frank off me. He immediately scrambled into a position where he was between my legs, his mouth open with anticipation. He grabbed my member by the base and gripped it tightly, running his hand up and down it as quickly as he could. Within a few seconds, I came, screaming as I rode out my orgasm. Frank tried to catch it, but, once again, porn lies when it says you can catch that shit in your mouth. In reality, cum sprayed all over your face, which is what happened to Frank. It dribbled down his mouth, got in his hair, everywhere.

 

I finished cumming and collapsed onto the bed, and Frank pulled me back up in front of his member. I opened my own mouth, taking off the ring. Immediately, the warm liquid shot into my mouth, all over my face. Frankie moaned loudly, the sound high and resounding, and I swallowed whatever I could. Frank fell on top of me, and we both panted and gasped for air.

 

"That was fucking amazing," Frank gasped, "I loved that so much."

 

I smiled and tried to calm my heart rate. I was sweaty, smelly, sticky, and all sorts of shit, but I didn't care. That _was_ amazing, and I had this idea that maybe Frank should top next time. Maybe he could try to be the dominant one. "Me too. I like playing with my toys, and you do too," I replied, and our breathing fell into the same rhythm. 

 

"I like this game, yeah," Frankie said, kissing me softly, "And you're the best player."

 


	27. You're Just a Sad Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks include the abusive relationship that Frank escaped, so there may be some suggestive material in this chapter. Hugs!

Frank's P.O.V.

***

We decided to take showers, because there was no way we were sleeping like that.

 

But the shower that followed THE BEST SEX EVER wasn't eventful. Gerard helped me get the come out of my hair, which had quickly taken to drying. After that, I had helped him with his, though he had to bend down a little so that I could reach. Other than the occasional kiss and graze, the shower wasn't very sexual. "Pass the soap, Gee," I said, and Gerard passed me the body soap. I was already pretty exhausted; I was sore, tired, and hurting everywhere. Especially my butt, because having a cock pounded into your ass definitely doesn't leave the best feeling afterwards.

 

"You really were quite beautiful, Frank," Gerard said softly, kissing my ear. I smiled and scrubbed at a scab on my arm with my washcloth. "So were you, Gee," I replied. He bit his lip and looked me up and down. "Hmm," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, "I think that maybe next time _you_ should tops. You always are so passionate, and we haven't done it that way before." My heart leapt in my chest and I nodded, to which Gee smiled widely. 

 

We finished showering, and we got dressed into our "pajamas", and then sat on the couch. "You're washing the sheets," I told Gerard, who grumbled angrily. "Fine. But next time, you're doing it," he replied, and I sighed into his shoulder. We turned on the television, and I felt myself slowly drifting off to sleep every few seconds.

 

"I bet Bert never did anything like that," Gee said finally, after a few moments of silence. The awkwardness he had created was definitely settled in, and I looked at my hands. "N-No, I didn't mean it like that... I just meant... Shit, Frankie, that came out wrong," he rushed, and I shrugged nonchalantly. Without any emotion, I leaned against Gee more. 

 

Terrible memories of Bert and his constant need for rough, dry sex flooded my mind, and Gerard could tell. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in more, kissing my forehead. "You're right," I admitted quietly, "Bert never was that good. He liked it dry. He liked to push me around. He snapped. He yelled. He hit, he beat. Never was one to be gentle, even if the first time we had done it was gentler than the other times." Gee sighed sadly and rubbed my arm reassuringly.

 

"I would never beat you. I would never hurt you. You know that, right?" Gerard reassured me, and I nodded quickly. "Of course you wouldn't," I said, happier than I was a few moments ago, "You would never hurt me. Not physically, not emotionally. I love you so much for that, Gee." He smiled and nodded, kissing me again. "Never," he repeated lovingly, and we returned our attention back to whatever show was on, which happened to be The Biggest Loser.

 

Even though Gee made me forget about everything that had happened with Bert, I still often found myself shivering at the memory of Bert's rough touches. When we had first met at the shelter, we were great friends. He was fun and kind and understanding, always there to listen to me when life was shitty and I felt like giving up. He was encouraging and inspirational, and I tried to match that. Then, one day when we had gone out for lunch, he confessed his feelings for me, and I admitted that I, too, liked him far more than a friend.

 

We had started to date, and he actually loved me, though I'm not sure when the love turned into more of a relationship where he used me. I guess it began the night he came home from one of his jobs at the phone company, which he had been fired from. He came home drunk that night, and he was really angry at me. He had texted me that he had been fired and that he would be coming home late because he had to pack up his belongings, and so I had made him his favorite dish: spaghetti. 

 

I had dished it out all nice and pretty, because I had used my savings for that month to buy nice ingredients. After laying out a quiet, peaceful dinner, he had come home, presumably drunk, and had thrown some boxes on the floor. I had smiled at him, running up to give him an assuring hug and kiss, but he had shoved me off, pushing me onto the floor. I had looked at him, and then I knew that he had been drinking. Not only could I smell the repugnant aroma of alcohol, but he was acting drunk as well. 

 

But I had gotten up anyways, and showed him the dinner I had worked so hard on. He had taken just one bite, and then hurled it at the wall, reprimanding me for the consistency of the tomato sauce. Then he had smacked me across the face and stormed to his room, leaving me aching and confused.

 

After cleaning up the mess and crying and hating myself for messing up, he had come back out to apologize, and said that he'd "make it up to me". By that, he meant rough, dry sex. That was the first time. That's probably when it had all happened; the abusive relationship, I mean. After that episode, he would often come home disgruntled and smelling of someone else. I knew that he had been cheating on me with someone else–or multiple people–but I only asked him about it once, to which he denied it and had locked himself in his room. 

 

Even though Gee was here and keeping me safe and loving me, the hauntings of the abusive relationship I had escaped always returned to me, shadows and feelings of Bert always coming back to me at the most inconvenient times. I stared at the television without seeing, without comprehending the weigh-in on the show, because of my thoughts. They flooded my mind and consumed me like darkness. 

 

"Frank?" Gerard asked, and I snapped back to reality. I looked at him, and his eyes were wide, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Y'okay?" he asked, and I nodded. Not fully convinced, Gee stood up, and I fell over because I had been leaning on him. 

 

He pulled me up by my arm and wrapped his arms around my waist, and I brought my arms around his neck. "Seriously, what's wrong?" Gerard asked, looking at me with those deep, hazel eyes. I sighed and looked at my feet, and then back up to his face. I traced his features with my gaze, loving the way his hair fell carelessly across his forehead and around his ears. "It's just..." I started, leaning my head to the side and closing my eyes, "I'm always thinking about Bert. Like, whenever someone brings him up or when something reminds me of him or just out of nowhere... And it makes me ache and hurt inside, but I don't know how to forget."

 

I didn't know how to forget.

 

Gerard looked down at me, his face soft and his eyes understanding. After a few moments of consideration and thinking, he replied, "People suck... Especially Bert. But you know how to forget? Step one is to find someone who'll _make_ you forget. Like, I dunno, me. Step two is to get to spew out all your thoughts and problems and shit. Step three is to do something with that person that'll make you forget. And after that, think about what you did with them. Think about what makes you happy. Think about what you like, and don't dwell on the unfortunate past."

 

I looked back up at Gerard, smiling and choking back a happy sob. "G-Gee," I said, shaking my head slowly, "I really don't know what I did to deserve someone as beautiful on the inside and out. You always know what to say. You always know how to make me feel better..." I thought back to the days where he'd make me soup and baby me when I was sick, and how he'd cradle me for no reason. How he'd kiss me when I was hurting, how he'd look at me when I would be doing nothing. 

 

And that's when it occurred to me that this was what I needed to forget my past. That all I needed was Gee and his smile and his eyes and just... Him. I needed Gerard Way to forget Bert and sadness and aching and pain. 

 

He leaned down to meet me, and I rested my forehead against his. It seemed cliche and totally chick-flick plot line and shit, but we just stood there, quiet, swaying. It's said that love should be between someone you love and yourself, and love was something I had given up on a long time ago. But having Gerard in front of me, holding me, consoling me... That was love. That was the best kind of love; meaningful, _real_. He was real. And that was more than I deserved. 

 

"I'm tired," Gee whispered after a while, pressing his warm lips against mine. After a few minutes, he pulled back, taking my arms away from his neck and holding my hands between us for a few seconds, rubbing them softly. "I love you so much, Frankie," he said quietly, "Don't you ever forget that."

 

"I won't."


	28. Thank You For The Venom (Not Really, I Hate It)

Gerard's P.O.V.

***

Frank fell asleep on my lap, and I looked at him sadly. The seemingly innocent guy before me was actually so broken that I even doubted my ability to fix the broken pieces at times. When someone is so hurt that they begin to blame thenselves and bottle up those emotions... That's where the depression starts. From trying to handle your emotions by yourself.

 

With my eyes, I traced Frank's face shape, from his soft but sharp chin to his browbones. The day's eyeshadow was brown, and he had forgotten to wipe it away, but I didn't bother to take it off. I didn't want to wake him. My mind traveled back to Mikey, and how he had just kicked me out without even consulting me. 

 

I considered texting him, a thought that got approved by my conscience immediately. I carefully took my phone from my pocket, trying not to wake up Frankie, and accomplished this successfully. With the small white noise of the television in the background, I unlocked my phone and opened up my messages between Mikey and I, biting my lip and trying to decide what to text. I decided on something that'll appear really cocky, but I didn't have too much anger behind it. In fact, I had been planning on asking to move in with Frank for a while, because I had picked up bits and pieces of Mikey and Alicia talking over the phone about moving in together. 

 

"Thanks for giving me some notice on kicking me out!" 

 

I switched over to my camera and took a picture of Frank asleep in my lap. I would post it somewhere in the morning, so I set down my phone and looked up to the television, a commercial about Target playing. I loved Target; the best part was Starbucks. Starbucks is the best.

 

"–winter coats are twenty percent off! Hurry and come in before the deal ends!" the lady said, and I scoffed. Neither I nor Frankie actually owned real winter jackets. No, I take that back. I had one, but the rest consisted of hoodies, cardigans, and knitted sweaters. I was like... a jacket slut. 

 

The commercials continue to play, until The Biggest Loser comes back on. Don't get me wrong, I loved Frank. I loved him so, _so_ much. But you have to admit that Bob Harper is one of the hottest motherfuckers that you've ever seen. Especially with those glasses.

 

Jillian, or whatever her name was, was screaming at some blonde lady who was struggling to keep up with the treadmill. I realized with a stroke of sadness that if I had continued my way of life from high school, then I would have probably been on the show. I was pretty large during my high school years, but I luckily lost most of the weight. I was still slightly chubby, but you could hardly tell besides the stretch marks.

 

My phone buzzed, and Frank stirred, but I shushed him back into stillness. I picked up my phone and read Mikey's text.

 

"Not like you care anyways. You practically live at his place anyways. I'm moving in with Alicia. Her apartment is a few blocks away, closer to my job, and things were getting too cramped."

 

I rolled my eyes and began jabbing angrily at the keys again.

 

"You're one to talk. You're never even there. You're always at her house. Just... I don't know what's gotten into you, but kindly fuck off. Bye Mikes"

 

I hated him for doing this. For hurting Frank. For kicking me out. For not being there, even though I was always there for him. It hurt me more than anything. I was like a sponge; I soaked up peoples' emotions. Especially Frank's. Mikey's just a twit.

 

I look back up at the T.V., my vision suddenly blurred with tears. From no where. From nothing.

 

Why did life have to be so hard sometimes? Why were some people so broken? I mean, depression is completely normal, but just... Life isn't fair, and I couldn't see why. 


	29. To The End

Frank's P.O.V.

***

Morning came with a harsh light blaring through the window, and I was nearly blinded by the unexpected sunlight. I hissed quietly, and tried to shield my eyes, but I realized that both Gerard and I had fallen asleep on the couch. I was leaning on his chest, which rose and fell with sleep. 

 

I groaned and whined when I realized that I had work. Why even go to work? Fuck work. I hated it. Judging by the fact that the sun is up and shining, I guessed that we were probably a little late. I shook Gerard awake, shoving him harshly when he grunted and tried to turn over. "Dude, get the fuck up," I moaned at him, "We're gonna be later for work."

 

Gee's eyes fluttered open, and he, too, had an unfriendly meeting with the sudden shine of sunlight. "Ah, shit," he grunted angrily, covering his eyes and sitting up quickly. This caused me to fall over, but I managed to catch myself before hitting my head on the coffee table. Without hesitation, I stood up and ran to the kitchen, fumbling around with the cabinet doors and the coffee pot. I heard Gerard stand up and pad to the bathroom, and as he did that, I pulled out two coffee mugs and quickly made shitty coffee.

 

Look, perfection can't be rushed.

 

Gerard finished in the bathroom and rushed to the bedroom, the idea of running late finally finding its place in his sleep-deprived mind. "Get me clothes," I barked moodily. I'm not the most sunshine-and-roses kind of guy in the morning, and Gee knew that, so he did so without question.

 

I took the coffee pot and poured a generous amount into both cups, surprised that I managed to get a whole pot of coffee to not spill out of the seemingly small mugs.

 

Gerard emerged from the bedroom, quickly, wearing a Nirvana sweater and some gray skinny jeans. He threw another pair of clothes into the couch and ran over to get his coffee, grazing my lips with his own as he did so. "Thanks, Frankie," he said softly, sipping from the cup of scolding liquid. How he did that, I'm not sure, but he did. 

 

I grabbed the jar of sugar from beside the refrigerator and poured a considerable amount into my coffee. The sugar and caffeine should wake me up. 

 

Scooting over to the couch, I quickly snatched up the shirt that Gee had grabbed, which was a deep red, and switched out the shirt I had slept in for it. I also removed my pants and slid on some other black sweatpants that Gee had gotten. The outfit was very comfortable, though not the most ideal to wear out in public. However, I was in a hurry and could give no fucks about how I appeared to others.

 

"Are you done?" Gerard asked breathlessly, running a comb through his hair before tossing it to me. I caught it and combed my hair back, just wanting it out of my face. Nodding, I threw the comb onto the couch and grabbed my phone from the counter, also picking up a random hoodie off of the floor and pulling it over my head. Gerard plucked his beanie from the counter and his leather jacket as well, throwing both on and holding the door open for me. 

 

We quickly rushed out, and I realized that we had forgotten the coffee. Though Gee said that we could just go and buy some, I insisted on returning to the room and getting the mugs. He reluctantly agreed, and we wasted time by forgetting how a key and lock works. "No, you fuckhead, you're twisting it the wrong way," I complained bitterly, snatching the key from Gerard, who sighed irritably.

 

After finally opening the door, I ran in and picked up the cups, swearing loudly as the still-hot liquid sloshed up and hit my finger. That's why I wore gloves on a normal basis, but I was in a rush and had no time to put on gloves.

 

Even though we could easily make it through a later morning without trouble, something always seemed to mess it up. Probably my grumpiness in the morning, or maybe just the small things that added up. "We both work first shift at the guitar shop," Gerard notified me, and I sighed with relief as we rushed out the doors of the apartment complex. Days in which I shared a shift with Gerard were the best, because despite how snappy or depressed I get at times, he's always there and knows what to do. He could always make me smile, no matter what the occasion. Well, _most_ of the time, at least.

 

We rushed down the sidewalk, past the commuters and vendors. Why people would be out in this weather selling things outside, I don't know. But if that's how they make money, oh well. Go for it. "I'm so glad we've got the same shift today. I'm not in the mood for awkward run-ins and hoping you'll text," I muttered quietly, to which Gerard slipped his hand into my own and gave it a small, reassuring squeeze. 

 

When we finally reached the gultra shop, only to find it locked and unopened. Weird. Normally, it was inhabited by another worker when we got here, but then again, we're an hour and a half late. I had found this out by checking the time on my phone when we had left the apartment. 

 

"You have the keys to the shop, right?" I asked Gerard nervously, and he nodded quickly, shoving his hand into his pocket, and upon finding nothing, he groped his lanyard. There, he found the key, and drew the lanyard over his head to unlock the store. I huddled closer to him, shivering from the sudden breeze. So fucking cold.

 

Gerard finally unlocked the door, and we both slipped into the shop without a word, turning on the lights and the heater without hesitation. "Why must the seasons be so _cold_?" Gee whined, and I shrugged. "It's only January. Prepare for another month or two of weather like this," I replied sadly, and we both grimaced in unison. We set about the usual preparation of the shop, which we weren't accustomed to doing, since we didn't usually come in before anyone else. I had originally assumed that maybe the other guy had gotten irritated and had left while waiting, but the shop hadn't even been entered before us.

 

Gerard dusted off a few vinyl records that we kept in the back for sale, and then returned them to their shelves. We straightened up the other shelves and cases and stands, trying to make the products seem as appealing as possible. "You missed one," I said cockily to Gee, pointing to my favorite guitar, whom I had nicknamed "Pansy". Gerard rolled his eyes sarcastically and shifted it an inch to the right, and I nodded approvingly.

 

After we had finished, we picked up our coffee mugs and took a few, long sips. "You're awful at making coffee, but I still love you," Gerard commented, and I stuck out my tongue. "Love is a strong word. Besides, I was in a hurry," I tried to come up with an excuse, shifting on the counter so the I was cuddling into Gerard's arm. He placed it around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head softly. 

 

"It's a very strong word, and I'm willing to use it with you because that's how I feel about you," he whispered quietly, and I breathed in his scent. Gerard just smelled great all the time, whether he be a sweaty mess or lathered in lotion. "I potato you," I replied, lovingly caressing Gerard's hand, which was laying on my thigh. He giggled softly and shook his head. "I hope that's a term of affection and not you being a robot incapable of feeling love," he responded, though more amused than anything.

 

I laughed and kissed Gerard's cheek briefly, whispering, "I love you too. Potato is just more fun to say." He smiled and turned my head so that I was looking up at him, his hands still cold against my skin. "Hey," Gee muttered, and my eyes fluttered slightly, "Don't you ever forget that I love you. And don't let assholes like Mikey and Bert let you think otherwise." I bit my lip and pondered upon his statement, my stomach a mess of butterflies and nothingness. 

 

"I won't. I know you love me, and I hope that you know that I love you too," I asserted, my voice barely above a whisper. His lips curled into a content smile, and he pressed them to my forehead, and my eyes found it right to close. I'm not sure how I had gotten so lucky; though Gee and I had gone through a lot in almost two months now, we'd gone through every step and struggle together. And that's what mattered.

 

We stayed in that position for a few   moments, until the door opened and a rush of winter air flew in. "So... So cold out there," the customer stammered, and though neither Gee nor I recognized the man, we nodded and stated our agreement.

 

"What'ya need?" 

 

***

 

Gerard smiled down at me and ran his hand along my cheek, which I twisted to kiss lightly. 

 

The day of work had been long, but shortened by Gee's constant company. "You're too cute," he mused sweetly, and I smirked and shrugged. "I know."

 

I had decided that even if Mikey was an irrelevance due to his ability to be a judgmental jerk, I could still be happy with Gerard. And our very quickly-paced, romantic relationship had enough love for me to run off of for years, even if I'm low on self-esteem. Like a gasoline supply.

 

Bert was also out of my mind. Though I had frequent visits of Bert in my dreams, I no longer feared the past as much.

 

And if I was sure of anything, it's that I wanted to spend my entire life with Gerard, no matter what we went through.

 

To the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the rest is history! The band evolved into something loved by thousands, known as My Chemical Romance. No, none of this was real. It wasn't very accurate either *cough cough their age and Gee's hair evolution*
> 
> But thank you for supporting me, and though it took 29 chapters (and I wanted to add more) I had a great time with this. Hugs to all!
> 
> xoromanticizingchemicals


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